To Lose One's Nation
by AmaiRin
Summary: After England finds that America had plans to declare war on him, it sent him a little over the edge to the point of signing his nation over to a magical third party. With his country left in ruin as a result it didn't work out as he'd hoped.
1. Chapter 1

**To Lose One's Nation**

**Chapter One: A Push Over the Edge**

-will be USUK-ish eventually

'You were planning to do WHAT!'

Canada glared at America with the greatest amount of passive rage he could muster, eyes fixated and fists clenched but despite his attempts at an intimidating stance, Alfred remained as casual as ever. The American was slumped, quite limply, on a comfortable chair and staring blankly at his television, doing his utmost to ignore the enraged Canadian situated to his left and remain engrossed in the latest instalment of his favourite reality TV show.

'It was nothing personal,' America murmured, still staring at the screen, 'you were just conveniently placed'

'Nothing personal! You wanted to invade me!'

'Pfft, you know you like it.'

'Al, I don't believe you!

'Well at least I didn't invade after all that!' Alfred exclaimed in a heightened air of annoyance at the distraction from his show.

'It doesn't matter! You were planning it! I hate you!'

America turned to face his brother, an expression of false remorse plastered on his face, 'Listen, I'm really sorry Matt. I'm a real jerk, okay?' he said, with tearful eyes, while subtly increasing the volume of the TV without Canada seeing.

Canada bit his lip for a moment, as if considering to possibly accept this apology but after thinking better of it, he shook his head furiously and shrieked, 'Yeah you are! You're the worst brother ever!' The room was silent; accept for the rather obnoxious noise emanating from the TV. America gestured as if he would reply seriously but before he had the chance, his brother angrily turned his back and stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could manage. America stared for a moment at where his brother had left. It was highly unusual for Canada to be so flustered, the revelation of War Plan Red must have really upset him.

'Why do I always do this…' America muttered to himself before snuggling back down into his cushions and allowing himself to become re-engrossed in the ridiculousness of his show.

Outside, Canada childishly tried to wipe his eyes with the back of his hands and regain some composure. He just couldn't believe it, the fact that his own brother would do something so treacherous against him was really painful, but what hurt the most, was that he was been so casual about it, there didn't seem to be even an ounce of remorse. Gulping a little, he moved to raise his head so as to see where he was going and found himself to be slightly surprised at what he saw. Brashly pacing toward him was a familiar figure. The scruffy blonde hair and wild, bushy eyebrows gave no doubt that it was Arthur Kirkland, the personification of the country of England, and judging by the sourness of his expression and the stiffness of his walk, he was most likely heading to America's to give him an earful about the whole battle plans incident. Trailing behind England were two other people Canada was defiantly not expecting to see and was thoroughly surprised to so much as lay eyes on. There was a man a little taller than England boasting the same scruffy hairstyle but in a dark shade of auburn rather than blonde and also a shorter figure with dark hair in a style that was a little similar to Canada's. They were none other than two of England's brothers, Scotland and Wales, neither of which seeming to be trying to hide the fact that they seemed to be thoroughly disgruntled to even be in England's presence.

As Arthur approached, his expression seemed to soften as he saw the dejected nation before him.

'Mathew…are you okay?' he asked, unlike America, showing some genuine concern.

'How do you think I am after finding that out!' Canada exclaimed, 'My brother, my own brother wanted to INVADE ME! You can't understand how that feels!'

England threw an uncomfortable look at his brothers and then chuckled rather hoarsely in reply 'you'd be surprised…'

'Can we just get this over with,' groaned Scotland from behind, 'isn't it your responsibility to deal with these problems anyway?'

'Well I thought you might like to come to be representative too...' England replied, somewhat quietly.

The shortest and shyest of the brothers followed Scotland's lead and joined the conversation, saying in a rather irritated fashion to the blonde haired nation, 'You haven't asked me to represent anything since you forced me to come live with you...'

'W-we're family!' England stuttered, 'We need to stand together sometimes…'

'Ha! Yeah like that's not a load of shit, you're very happy running things by yourself and pretending like we're not here when it suits you!' Scotland exclaimed as he began to ruffle his brother's hair painfully while smiling with a dark grin, before adding 'but just along as I can take what I want from your economy, it's all good'

'T-thanks brother…' Arthur whimpered.

'Hey everyone!'

The heads of the little gathering turned to see a rather jolly individual walking briskly toward them. His hair was a butter yellow in colour and tied in a small ponytail and his eyes as brilliant an emerald green as those of his other brothers. The lyrical accent to his voice could have classified this individual as no one other than Ireland and England's expression somehow dropped even lower than it had been previously as he wondered what the hell he wanted.

'Scotty! Wales!' Ireland said cheerfully, before narrowing his eyes slightly and greeting the final brother in a tone of far less enthusiasm, 'England.'

'What are you doing here,' Arthur replied bluntly.

'Thought I'd see what you'd say to America, since I was living at your house at the time, thought it might be interesting. I could do with a laugh.'

'How did you even know we were here?' England growled aggressively.

'Scotty told me of course!' Ireland grinned as his brother darted Scotland an annoyed stare.

'Brother Ireland, it's been awhile,' Wales smiled cheerfully as he returned the greetings.

'It has, I'm glad to see you little brother.'

'Hey Ireland,' Scotland started, 'Wanna go drink after this? Still haven't beat you at that drinking game'

'And you never will! Hahahaha'

'TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!' England shrieked angrily. 'Canada! Keys!'

The Canadian who had been somewhat forgotten in the discussion, fumbled around in his pocket for the spare house keys his brother had lent him and handed them to the Briton without question. England snatched them roughly and marched up to America's door, thrusting the metal into the lock and twisting it violently until it clicked open. He slammed open the wooden frame and allowed his eyes to fall angrily onto a very surprised American who still lay sprawled out on his couch, a little too taken a back at the entrance to make any comment. England marched over infuriated and thrust a handful of documents in his face while yelling 'America you pathetic excuse for a nation! What the hell is this!'

America pushed the papers out of his face and looking up at Arthur merely said 'Dude, if you're not gonna take lecturing me seriously than don't bother.'

'Woo you go little brother!' Scotland heckled as he poked his head around the door to witness the amusing scene unfolding, 'Show your authority!'

'This is your problem too!' England exclaimed 'Last time I checked, we were both part of Britain!'

'Nah I'd have declared my independence and left you to it mate' Scotland countered bluntly.

England opened his mouth as if to say something in return, but in thinking of nothing, closed it again and took his eyes of his brother looking somewhat dejected. America deciding to break the awkward silence, sighed and thinking perhaps some bonding was in order said 'Look, I'm sorry, alright? Can't we just forget about all this? Now, do you want some tea, or coffee, or something?'

Ignoring America's pleas to change the subject, England shook his head angrily and said 'America what's all this about, why in God's name were you thinking of attacking your brother out of spite to me? You've had your independence for a couple of centuries, what's your problem!'

Scotland coughed a little and trying to hold back his laughter and regain some composure entered the conversation. 'Yes America, tell Uncle Scotland what the problem is.'

England raised an eyebrow, surprised his brother was showing maturity in the situation.

'I understand why anyone would want to shoot this guy repetitively,' Scotland continued, while gripping England's shoulder and smiling sweetly, 'but why would you want to attack Wales, Ireland and me? And attacking your brother is just low.'

'What the f-!' England started.

'I agree,' Ireland interrupted, 'attacking ones family is a dear grievance'

'I don't believe you people' England growled enraged, shaking of his brother's painful hold on his shoulder and backing away slightly.

America gritted his teeth angrily. 'You'd know! Even I'm not that young! Look, I told you I wanted my freedom right?' he started, 'well, your empire posed a threat to my country! I was NOT gonna risk being taken back by you after all I've gone through to get the hell away!'

England quite surprised tried to interrupt 'Eh, we weren't-'

'I'm sorry but business is business,' America continued, ignoring him, 'And if my brother didn't want to see how controlling and needy you are, that's his loss. You can't count it against me for wanting to protect all that I've worked for since the 1700's! Now if you'll excuse me, I have issues to deal with.'

The Britons stared a little shocked at the American's outburst.

'You can't be serious? Do you really think you're all that?' Scotland piped up in surprise.

'And more! Get lost!'

'What kind of inconsiderate idiot did you raise England?' muttered the auburn haired man, staring in utter disbelief.

'Yeah even I'm a little shocked...' said Ireland quietly

'Me too' added Wales.

England merely allowed the palm of his hand to collide with his face to convey his response to the situation.

Scotland shook his head. 'Fine you American bastard,' he growled, 'I'll show you the true power of the Britannia Brothers! And Ireland…do you wanna join in? Get the old team back together?'

'Will you buy me a drink?'

'Yeah sure.'

'Then count me in' he grinned.

'D-do I get a drink…?' England enquired a little shyly.

'You can buy your own,' Scotland smirked.

'O-oh…'

'But,' the Scotsman continued, 'seeing wee wittle England getting drunk and running around nude again could be funny.'

'T-that never happened!' Arthur exclaimed as he felt a hot blush spread across his cheeks.

'Pfft your lightweight mind just can't remember, anyway, I'm declaring something for once, you got a problem with my island-'

'Your island?' England interrupted.

'Yes, my island! I'm representing for once!' Scotland snapped before turning his attention back to America, 'Then I demand you take it up with me man to man!' He cracked his fists and allowed his height to intimidate America who was still lounging around, not in any way phased, on his couch.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, a little amused at the idea of the fight been presented to him. 'Very mature,' he said sarcastically, 'if you want to fight, 'it's your funeral. But we're not fighting in the house, I just cleaned it.'

'You call this clean?' muttered England as he wiped a finger down America's mantelpiece to test this validity of his statement, 'anyway,' he continued, 'stop this right now, you've already caused enough trouble for one day, Scotland, let's go home alright?'

'What's with that attitude?' Scotland exclaimed angrily, 'You wouldn't have taken this lying down fifty years ago! What happened to Britannia ruling the waves!'

'That was then,' England replied with a complete lack of energy, 'I'm tired of fighting.'

'Well, I'm still proud of our house even if you aren't!' Scotland growled at his brother with an aura of complete disappointment, before returning his attention back to America and exclaiming with a war-like enthusiasm, 'Come on you bastard, let's take this outside!'

'You know, Britain was the one with an empire for a reason, you should listen to him more,' America groaned while gesturing to the disheartened England.

'Britain? His name is England damn you, we're all Britain!'

'Whatever, let's get this over with,' Alfred yawned as he stood up and headed for the door, 'so what are the terms? If I win, I want to humiliate you in a way everyone can see… perhaps tattoo my flag to your foreheads?'

'Whaaa, t-that sounds painful!' stuttered Wales tearfully.

'No worries brother Wales, we won't let him,' Ireland smiled while patting his brother's shoulder comfortingly.

'This is ridiculous!' England exclaimed, 'Look America, I want a proper explanation as to your actions and a formal apology. I know we've had history but I thought we were allies, since when were you so paranoid?'

'You're really asking that?' Scotland enquired, 'Stop been such a woman England, men talk with their fists!.' With that, and a long, echoing, battle cry of 'FREEEEEEEEEEDOM!' Scotland's fist collided with America's face, sending his body to enjoy the company of his hard, wooden floor with a loud, resonating bang.

'W-What the heck Scotland!' England yelled in protest to the sudden attack.

Quickly recovering from the assault, America clenched up his fingers and swept up his arm to hook Scotland's stomach from below, sending him back gasping a little.

'I SAID NOT IN MY HOUSE!' Alfred yelled, getting back to his feet, 'and only I fight for freedom bitch!'

Scotland grinned, 'Ha, you were only born yesterday, you wee baby!' He stood back up and spit onto Al's floor, much to the annoyance of both Alfred, whose floor it was, and England who thought that was quite disgusting, 'We've all fought for freedom,' Scotland continued, 'we're just not so obnoxious to always go on about it!' With that, the Scotsman, composure regained, proceeded to dash toward the American and rugby tackle him to the ground, 'and why the hell would I care for this shithole of a house!' he added as he tried to restrain the wildly flailing America without a single care for the amount of damage he was causing to his property in doing so.

As the two continued to fight violently, a chant of 'SCOTLAND SCOTLAND SCOTLAND' could he heard echoing as Wales and Ireland started calling their brother's name in avid support. England couldn't help but be irritated in the knowledge that they wouldn't be chanting his name if he was the one currently flailing on the floor and was left in a state of utter confusion on whether to try to somehow break up the battle, or leave it to continue. It was a shameful display, but seeing the two beat each other to a pulp was proving to be quite entertaining.

The two countries continued to throw punches at each other, doing all they could to gain the upper hand and cause the other as much discomfort as possible. In the chaos, Scotland reached out to America's face and with surprising care, lifted his glasses from the bridge of his nose, 'Hahahaha, hey Ireland! Try these on, they might suit you!' He laughed as he tossed Texas into his brother's hands.

'Give me back Texas you bastard!' Alfred yelled in quite some distress.

Ireland proceeded to try the glasses, 'Mm I don't know,' he said removing them, 'maybe they'd look better on England?' He slipped the glasses onto England's nose. 'Aw, you look good brother!' He grinned mischievously. Arthur could do nothing but look heavenward in the ridiculousness of the situation.

Standing a little way away from his brothers, the little personification of Wales looked at the glasses with envy, wishing that he could try them as well, 'everyone forgets about me…' he sighed.

'Me too.'

Wales flinched and turned to his left to see another figure standing beside him. He looked very similar to the man his brother was beating up a few feet away, 'h-how long have you been there?' Wales asked shyly.

'The whole time,' Canada replied.

The two became silent again, watching their brother's struggle with blank expressions. Wales glanced at the larger country for a moment and then turned his attention back to the brawl.

'So…' the little country murmured, 'nice weather we're having?'

Canada looked at Wales a little in his peripheral vision, 'Yes,' he replied, 'it's quite lovely.'

'Yeah…' Wales half-whispered, clueless of anything else to say.

America flung punches at his attacker enraged. Even though his eyesight was poor without his glasses, he had renewed energy from the fury in that they'd been stolen. 'You play so cheap!' he shouted furiously while blindly trying to claw his oppressor's face, 'Taking my Texas is low! Just what I'd expect from a country where MEN WHERE SKIRTS!'

'It's a kilt you bastard!' Scotland growled in response, 'and since you're so big and strong, it won't hurt to have a handicap would it?'

Alfred yelled at the Briton infuriated and sensing an opening, head butted Scotland hard in the chest, causing him to recoil slightly, but the smaller country wasn't deterred and lunged back at America's disorientated head and pulled him to a headlock, proceeding to ruffle his hair roughly, 'Hahahaha! That's my wee little nephew!' He jeered, 'I claim this territory in the name of Scotland!'

'What happened to representing Britain,' England muttered, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

'Let go of me!' America yelled before sinking his teeth down hard into Scotland's arm. The arm immediately loosened as it felt the sharp pain run into it and the American took the clear opportunity to wriggle out of the headlock while gasping for air. 'D-dude! Your armpits smell like crap! One word, four syllables, DE-O-DE-RANT'

The two battlers stood apart from each other, panting heavily in a mutually agreed ceasefire and instinctively rubbing gently at the developing bruises. America shook his head angrily and thrust his hand, slightly off target, at England in a clear demand for the return of his glasses, which the Brit didn't bother to contest as he placed them back into his hands. While reuniting Texas with his face he continued addressing the disgruntled looking Scotsman standing opposite from him, 'Look, this is completely pointless, what exactly are you trying to prove, that you're better than Artie of that you're better than me,'

Scotland glared at the American angrily. Canada becoming tired of the animosity stepped in, saying desperately, but still in his delicate tone of voice, 'can we just give him a lecture and move on with our lives?'

America looked around, 'did you hear something?' he said apprehensively as if he had detected the presence of a ghost. The face of his Canadian brother dropped slightly and he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder from Wales who gave him a consoling look.

Scotland and America regained their eye contact and stared at each other darkly for what seemed a long while, each looking thoroughly ready to lunge at the other at any sudden movements but eventually, the Scotsman grew tired and let his body relax into a disinterested shrug, 'I'm kind of bored now,' he said, while beginning to nurse the blackening bruises he'd obtained, 'you're weaker than I thought.'

'W-what-!'

'Just don't bother me and my brothers' he exclaimed defensively, 'accept England, piss him off as much as you want, would make me laugh to see his vital regions getting a bit of attention.'

'You sick-!' England started in utter disbelief.

'Hey Ireland,' Scotland continued, ignoring his little brother's complaints at the comment, 'let's go get a drink and catch up.'

'Right!' he replied joyfully.

'Wanna come have some fun too little brother?' Scotland questioned England with an evil grin plastered on his face.

England was silent for a moment. He did like alcohol. He liked it a lot. But he also greatly disliked the company of his brothers, and somehow that was the overriding factor in this case as he found himself replying with a half-decisive 'no thank you.'

Scotland returned the comment with a rather morbid glare and then proceeded to hit his brother hard on the back, causing England to cough up the air seated in his lungs, 'Well I'll see you later then, if you ever bother to pay me a visit.'

'Only if need ever calls for it,' England muttered under his breath.

'Hey Ireland, we should make him do that dance like at last New Years!' Scotland went on.

'Hahahaha, oh yes, England's always fine entertainment!'

'Just get lost!' England yelled angrily.

'Okay, okay, don't take it so personally' Scotland growled, 'come on Ireland.'

The two brothers proceeded to take their leave from America's house leaving Arthur feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

'Thank God they're gone,' he groaned as he allowed himself to slump against the wall.

'Why did you let them do that?' enquired Alfred, who to some surprise, was showing some genuine concern at the way England's brothers seemed to treat him. 'I used to love Uncle Scotty, when'd he get like that?'

'He's always been like that, at least to me,' Arthur grumbled in reply.

'Well whatever,' Alfred sighed, as he once again collapsed onto his overly comfortable couch, 'You gonna lecture me now? Tell me how stupid I am? Tell me how much you hate me? 'Cause I'm aaaaaaaaall ears!' He threw his head back against the seat, allowing his eyes to make contact with his ceiling and prepared his mind to dip into his 'Ignore Arthur Mode' which was most useful for such situations.

The Briton stared at him for awhile before saying 'Ugh, you know what?

'What?' Alfred replied.

'Just forget it. I can't be bothered with you anymore.' With that conclusion England proceeded to walk sadly towards the door. America removed his attention from analyzing his ceiling and returned it to the older nation, he had not replied in the way he had expected and it surprised him. Alfred thought of saying something in that moment, possibly an apology, or an invitation to reconcile their differences now the disruption of Scotland and Ireland had gone. Anything, just to make it that he didn't leave that room. The feeling in those few seconds was almost overwhelming as if he'd come to regret not stopping Arthur there and then, but Alfred didn't believe in premonitions or other such ridiculous notions and kept his mouth, allowing the dispirited nation to open his front door and slam it behind him.

'Well that went badly,' stated Wales.

'Yes it did, America, you're such a jerk, you know that?' added Canada.

'Matt, just shut up, I'm not in the mood,' Alfred growled, 'Do you need anything else or can I have some peace?'

'Fine, have your peace. I hope your mind's swimming with guilt. C'mon Wales.'

The two remaining guest countries in America's house also left, Canada remembering to slam his brother's door in the same fashion that the proceeding nations had done on their departures. Once again the American's property was silent, all accept for the continuous noise that his TV seemed to insist on radiating out to penetrate the quietness of the room. The room's only occupant had wanted peace but what he was left with was not the pleasurable silence it had been a short time ago. Despite dismissing his brother, he truthfully wished for someone to distract him, to give him something to listen to that wasn't the arguments of ridiculous people on some idiotic program that meant nothing.

'Why me…?' Alfred muttered to himself as he rolled over and buried his face into the cushions of his sofa. 'Dammit…they all hate me. Why do I always piss everyone off like this? And Artie…' He began to sniff a little and as no one was around, allowed his eyes to water up a little and dampen the material his face lay in. 'It's not fair…so not fair.'

Wales smiled at Canada as they proceeded to walk down the street. The two of them had quite a lot in common, a brother, or brothers, which were complete arseholes and a tendency to be forgotten to even exist. They could both see that this was a wondrous grounding for what could be a beautiful friendship. Ahead, Wales could see his blonde haired brother sulking, leant up against a wall and looking at the floor quite miserable. Wales considered walking on past but eyeing Canada's expression of concern in the corner of his eye, thought better of it and approached him.

'You okay?' he asked gently.

'Why do you care,' England muttered, 'you hate me as much as the rest of them.'

Wales bit his tongue for a moment but continued shyly, 'but you still look upset'

'Of coarse I am, I'm fed up with all of you,' he stated bluntly, 'I've lost nearly all of our Empire I worked so hard to accomplish, Scotland is been the bastard he always is and now I find out America was planning to do that…'

The small party was silent for a moment, Canada truly empathising about the pain of Alfred's betrayal to the two of them.

'M-maybe you should go back and talk to him?' Wales suggested after a while, approaching his brother warily.

'No!' the now volatile country shouted in return, causing Wales to flinch slightly, 'and in fact you know what? I quit!'

The smaller brother gave an expression of confusion 'Quit? Quit what?' he asked.

'Been a nation' England replied, 'it's more trouble than it's worth…I'm giving it up.'

**-So this is the adaptation of a roleplay that me and my friend were doing for about 6weeks or 2months or something, the rules were that we could play any character we wanted but only she could play america and only i could play england and this is what we ended up with. It's been harder than I thought to convert our spontanious rp into pros and has required alot of work and editing, but I thought it was a good story. Also, if there are questions about what battle Canada and England are accusing Alfred of, it's war plan red, which was a planned attack on the British Empire vie Canada which didn't end up happening, probably because WW2 broke out. Needless to say it hurt American-Canadian relations when the plans were discovered xD  
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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

A contract

Canada and Wales stood staring at the antagonized England in some shock. He wanted to quit been a nation? Had he any idea what he was saying, not only was it insane but as far as the other two knew it was downright impossible.

'What do you mean,' started Wales after a prolonged silence, 'you can't just give that up!'

'Well I am!' England exclaimed in return, 'I am and I don't care what happens to it, you take it or something! Give me some peace of mind!'

The small group stood motionlessly as the Briton's words reverberated in both the silent street and in their heads. Canada and Wales could scarcely believe the words they'd just heard, even if he was upset, England would never want to say such a thing about his nation so rashly. Once again the tense atmosphere was soon broken but this time by a rather catchy remix of Rule Britannia. Arthur glanced at his pocket for a moment, hoping that if he stared at it, the noise would stop out of fear and cease ruining the mood. When it didn't, he jerkily stuffed his hand into his pocket and materialized a phone, which he looked at with quite some disdain to see who was calling. At seeing the name 'Alfred F. Jones' lit up on the screen he immediately pulled an expression of rage and threw the device on to the hard concrete floor of the street with as much energy he could muster. In the annoyance and embarrassment that the phone wasn't sufficiently damaged to stop its infernal ringing, Arthur turned around and grumbled, barely audibly, to the other two, 'I'm catching a flight home, good riddance to this bloody country.' And made a brash departure, eyeing the road for a taxi he could get to the nearest airport.

'He's had a tough decade,' Wales said eventually after quite some time.

'I can see that…he'll be alright…right?' said Mathew with concern.

'O-of course…' Wales stated but then fell silent as his eyes widened as he thought about his brother's words in a bit more detail, 'H-he told me to 'take it' didn't he?' the small nation stuttered.

'Er, yes I suppose so, why?'

'H-he just gave me his country! I-is this official! I-I've never had this much power before!' Wales eyes lit up brightly, suddenly orbs full of energy and enthusiasm.

'M-maybe don't let it go to your head okay…' stated Canada as he saw his friend beginning to fantasize, 'You know,' Canada went on, 'It's still ringing, do you think we should answer it?'

The two stared at the phone awhile, both wondering whether to pick it up, but in their indecision, eventually the melody ceased and became silent.

'Well I guess he'll call back if it was important,' said Wales as he picked up his brother's phone and pocketed it, 'As for the moment!' he continued joyfully, 'I gotta celebrate! I'm going to turn London into New Cardiff! A-and! I'll call England…New Wales! Scotland will be so happy I know it! No more annoying England to boss us around!'

Canada merely observed silently as the smaller nation excitedly fiddled around with his own phone to call his brothers and inform them of the 'good' news. He was surprised at the behaviour, but then the Britons always did seem to be a bit of a strange bunch to him. Canada turned away from the smaller nation and in the distance could see Arthur climbing into a taxi and speeding away. As he watched the car disappear he couldn't help but feel slightly worried.

Wales on the other hand was feeling delighted. 'Scotty Scotty!' he exclaimed happily upon getting through, 'You'll never guess!'

'What?' slurred Scotland, followed by a loud hiccup, confirming his location of probably been in a bar somewhere.

'England gave me his country!' Wales continued.

'Seriously? H-how d-does that work, he sign a contract or something?' Scotland enquired.

'I dunno,' said Wales quietly and a little less enthusiastically, 'but Canada is a witness!'

'Who?' Scotland hiccupped.

'Canada' Wales replied.

'Right…' There was a short pause from both parties before Wales could undoubtedly hear Scotland muttering to someone else, he guessed probably Ireland, the words 'Who's Canada?' before grumbling a few inaudible phrases and hanging up.

'He hung up on me!' Wales exclaimed quite upset.

'Don't worry about him,' said Canada shaking his head, Scotland's behaviour very low on his list of concerns, 'it's getting late, let's find somewhere to stay for the night.'

'O-okay,' replied Wales, still a little hurt from his brother's disinterest in his news.

Some time later, Canada and Wales soon found themselves paying an exuberant price for a room. It had been an eventful day and neither felt like travelling back to their own country without a good nights sleep. Their accommodation was quite small for the price but it was satisfactory, two beds, a shower, a TV, it was sufficient for a night. Wales jumped happily on his bed, still excited in the belief that he was now a larger, more powerful nation. Canada rolled his eyes, not in the particular mood to humour him, before turning on the TV and lying on his bed, nestling his head into the pillows making himself comfortable. He then picked up the remote from the bedside table and began to skip through the channels with little interest. The two sat for awhile, not talking, when suddenly a familiar ringtone echoed around the room. It was England's phone again. Wales retrieved it from his pocket and looked at the screen.

'It's America again,' he said looking at the name.

'Going to answer it?' Canada enquired, his expression riddled with subtle annoyance at the mention of his brother's name.

'I guess it couldn't hurt,' Wales grinned with his essence of importance renewed at the thought of talking to America in England's stead. Excitably he allowed his finger to hit the small green button and greeted the caller with an enthusiastic 'Hello!'

There was a short silence from the other end before a confused American accent echoed through saying, 'Britain…is that you?'

'Er yes, this is Britain,' Wales carried on, suddenly a little confused that Alfred hadn't requested England. There was a short pause before a sudden abrupt sentence was been exclaimed down the line. 'No you're not! You sound nothing like him, who the heck are you!'

'Hey Wales…' whispered Canada.

'But I am Britain!' the little nation continued, thoroughly disorientated that he was been told he wasn't someone he was.

'Don't mess around with me! Who the hell are you!'

'I'm Britain! Wales to be precise! And I'm a lot more important now thank you very much so get used to hearing about me!' He snapped.

'Wales,' Canada said again, a little louder, this time tugging slightly on his sleeve.

'Wales?' America enquired, a little relived to finally understand who the strange accent belonged to, 'Dude, what're you doing with Artie's phone? I said I wanted Britain not Wales. Put 'im on!'

'But I am Britain!' he protested.

'Wales! Give me the phone!' Canada suddenly exclaimed his voice panicked. The little nation taken aback by the Canadian's out of character bluntness, quickly relinquished it and instinctively edged away a little.

'Hey Al, it's me'

'Matti!' Alfred grinned happily, delighted to speak to someone whose voice he actually recognized, 'where's Artie?'

'A-Al, turn on the TV, watch the news,' Canada replied ominously.

Alfred gave a hum of confusion to his brother but did as requested and turned on his television, the sight he was greeted by was not something he'd been expecting. It was the country of England but not the view of the country he had come to know. The TV was plastered with the news of a mass, mental depression that had swarmed over the entirety of the little nation. People had given up their jobs, their hobbies, many seemed to have even lost the will to live. Even the politicians had strangely announced giving up their jobs without warning, the country had been left in what should have been complete chaos, but not a single person seemed to have the energy to commit any act of violence for they all seemed to be too miserable to do anything. The news item went on to say that the Scottish government was trying to redeem the problem with little success to which Wales suddenly got quite irritated at the thought his brother was taking away the land rightfully his.

'W-what is this…' Alfred muttered watching the news unfold in shock.

'H-he said…' Canada stuttered, 'England said that he was giving up been a nation.'  
>'H-he said what!' Alfred shouted in shock, 'What's going on! M-Matt, I'm heading out the door right now, you gotta help me find him! I don't care how angry he is, this is ridiculous!'<p>

'He's probably flown back to Britain already, don't bother,' stated Canada, his tone suddenly unusually curt.

'Eh?'

'I thought you didn't care about him.'

'W-what?' the American stuttered in confusion.

'I'm not working with you,' Mathew continued, 'you might be spying on me and trying to invade my country.'

'M-Matt you can't-!'

'Look for him yourself!' With that final antagonistic remark Canada abruptly hung up, surprised at his own nerve to speak to America in such a way. He bit his lip, wondering silently for a moment if he'd been rash in refusing to cooperate with his brother, he hated him at the moment but this was about England, not their dispute.

'You angry at him?' asked Wales after awhile.  
>'Yep.'<p>

'It's not so bad been annexed to your brother's house you know,' said Wales, moving over to Canada and trying his best to be comforting, 'you get all the boring paperwork sorted out for you.'

'I don't think Al is reliable enough to deal with my paperwork,' Canada replied with a smile. Wales' attempts at cheering him up were quite endearing and that in itself was lifting his spirits. He soon found himself letting out a long, exhausted sigh, it had been a strange day but he couldn't just ignore England's problem, they were good friends, even if he did get forgotten by him a lot of the time. 'So,' Canada started to Wales after a pause, 'What do you think we should do now?'

'DAMMIT MATT!' America yelled at his unresponsive phone. 'Artie…you better not do anything stupid,' he muttered to himself, '…that's my job.'

He sighed and stuffed it roughly in his pocket. What was he going to do? The sights he'd seen on the news were nothing like anything he'd seen before. How could England suddenly be so depressed? He paced brashly toward the door grabbing his bomber jacket on the way, before snuggling up into it and walking out into the night. He had to do something, anything, they squabbled a lot but he didn't wish any harm on the older nation and he was truthfully very concerned about him. But what could he do, Arthur was probably in the sky hundreds of miles away by now, likely close to landing in his home country or perhaps even there. Thinking it over he decided that perhaps the best course of action would be to talk it over with Scotland, been brothers he might have some idea on how to deal with Arthur at this time. As far as America knew, the fiery, auburn haired nation would probably still be drinking in the local bar and not yet on a transatlantic flight back home. He soon found himself half running to his destination, hoping desperately that the nation would be there and in a fit state to talk about the severity of the situation.

When Alfred arrived he stood outside for a moment panting. He ran through possible scenarios in his head, if they were there, if they weren't, what to say or do in both situations but eventually he tired of the that and pushed the door open with great force, simply hoping that the people he regarded as uncles would have chosen to go there and wouldn't have left yet. As it was, his hunch was right and he quickly lay eyes on Scotland and Ireland half lying at the bar, each with a half empty drink in their hands. America didn't want to think how many they'd already downed but ignoring the fact they may scarcely understand him hurried over, shouting, 'Uncle Ireland! Uncle Scotland! Man am I glad to see you!'

The two looked up a little, wearing slightly baleful expressions. America ignoring this carried on, 'Have you seen Britain?' he asked, 'I gotta find him, he's been a dumbass.'

'England,' Scotland started with some emphasis, 'is been a 'dumbass' as you put it.'

'I agree,' Ireland hiccupped, 'what an imbecile.'

'Good riddance is what I say.' Scotland continued, 'My people are dealing with it, leave the idiot be.'

Suddenly another familiar face burst through the doors, little Wales stood there, panting as if he'd been running and glared at his elder brother exclaiming, 'Hey Scotty! England's my land, he gave it to me! Don't you go taking it!'

'Who…' Scotland looked up a little dazed, confused at first as to who was talking to him. Upon realising it was his little and very forgettable brother, he continued drowsily, 'you're too little to have that much responsibility, go play.'

'H-hey! Don't treat me like a kid! I'm two millennia old now damn it!' Wales shouted angrily, before thrusting a finger at America and continuing, 'How come that guy can be little over two centuries and get that massive country all to himself!'

Scotland waved off his little brother and turned back to his drink, 'Okay, okay,' he said irritably, just trying to end the one sided argument, 'We'll debate how to split the country up later.'

Wales bit his lip and puffed his cheeks up angrily. Behind him, the door of the bar opened yet again and this time Canada entered through it, much more civilly than the smaller nation that had just gone before him and breathing much more calmly. He didn't seem to be flustered at all until he spotted America was there also and felt his eyes narrowing in discontent.

'I hate been twins with you,' he growled, 'Damn psychic link leading us to the same place.'

America opened his mouth to say something in retaliation to Canada but remembering the reason he was there, turned his attention back to the Britons and once again enquired as to England's whereabouts and state of mind, doing his best to keep his patience.

'Why do you care?' growled Ireland, 'We've all hated him for years.'

'Good to have the house to myself,' added Scotland.

'What about me!' Wales exclaimed in a fluster.

'Hahahaha sorry little brother and you too, in fact, this is a momentous occasion! Another round?'

The other two brothers raised their fists in the air and shouted merrily in a unanimous agreement to buy more drinks, Wales' annoyance with Scotland largely forgotten in the prospect of a celebration.

'Are you been serious!' America exclaimed angrily.

Scotland ignored him and handed each of his brothers a drink and proposed a toast, 'To a new age of non-interfereance with the world and splendid isolation and not been lumped together with that obnoxious tea loving jerk again!' he stated with a slight slur.

'Cheers!' the brothers laughed merrily.

'No! Just no!' Alfred yelled, slamming his fist down hard to gain some attention, 'You can't just do that! He might be really sick right now and you're all toasting and giving up on him! No wonder he doesn't get along with you!'

'Since when did you care!' Canada growled, not in defence of England's brothers but to happily highlight what he saw as his brother's hypocrisy.

'Urgh get over it and get a life Matt!' America retaliated, 'Quit bitching and help me figure this out first!'

'NO!' Canada shouted in response, 'I'm tired of you! You can't just all of a sudden decide to help Arthur!'

'I just did! Now where is he!' Alfred yelled, desperation creeping into his voice.

'I-if you l-love 'im so much, why don't you just marry 'im?' Scotland slurred.

'…how old are you?' Alfred murmured with an underlying tone of fury.

'Ha! Look who's talking!' laughed Ireland.

'We thought you of all people would be delighted at this turn of events America!' grinned Scotland  
>'Sh-shame you don't wanna drink with us,' Ireland hiccupped, brandishing his drink around and spilling it clumsily, 'O-oh my g-god, d-does this mean I-I get Northern Ireland b-back? I-It better Scotty!' he suddenly stuttered in distraction.<p>

'Aye! And we'll split the r-remaining island b-between you and me W-Wales,' Scotland replied, gesturing to his brothers awkwardly.

America shook his head and placed a firm hand on Scotland's shoulder, 'I'll ask you one more time, any idea where he might be?'

Scotland glared at the American balefully but gave a relatively diplomatic answer and replied, 'Hell if I know lady. I still don't get why ya care.'

'Do I need a reason?' Alfred muttered, releasing his grip and walking hopelessly toward the door.

'Just don't ruin this for us!' Ireland shouted after him.

Alfred left the bar for the fresh, night air. The street was silent aside from the muffled racket radiating from the building he'd just left and he was glad for some relative peace. The American began to walk down the street, hugging his jacket to him tightly for warmth. The whole exercise had been thoroughly useless and a complete waste of time. Even Canada wasn't helping him. He just didn't understand why those people, who were meant to be closer allies to England than he was, were the ones who seemed to care the least.

'Al, wait!'

America turned around suddenly upon hearing the voice to see his brother running toward him. He waited until Mathew finally caught up. Upon reaching him, the Canadian bent over slightly to recover, his breath easily visible in the cold, night air.

'I'm still really pissed off with you and would rather not see your face for the next half decade,' he started panting.

'If that's all you have to say, get lost,' muttered Alfred in return.

'Let me finish!' Canada continued, 'I care about Arthur, I still answer to his house and I'm worried about him…I don't know why in hell you care, but this is about him, not us and if we work together we'll have a better chance of finding him.'

America stared at his brother, almost tearfully for a moment before breaking into a grin and grasping Mathew's shoulders tightly, 'Thank you Matt!' he beamed, 'Let's go!'

'Where?' asked Canada.

'Where else?' Alfred replied, 'The airport!'

Some time later, England was walking aimlessly. He'd been doing other such pointless activities ever since he had arrived home and the day was at last drawing to its close. He hadn't tended to any of his duties as a nation and was almost finding some kind of pleasure in seeing his misery manifest all around him. Every person, to him was merely an extension of himself and feeling his melancholy. With the sun beginning to set he felt now was a good time for an indulgence in a past time he knew was always bound to make him feel better, drinking, and with bottles in hand he found himself wondering through some quiet, deserted woodland, downing the liquid as he went. He liked woods, he remembered when they covered his entire nation before people cleared them. They always made him feel peaceful and at home and he found that somehow been amongst the trees eased his woes. Upon finding a large oak situated far into the woodland, he allowed his back to slump against its trunk and let his body fall to be seated amongst the roots and discarded leaves of the tree. He drank. The hours began to roll by but he had no intention of moving yet, feeling too energy-less to shift his weight and head for home.

'I-I hate them all,' he muttered suddenly, feeling his eyes beginning to water with tears, 'I don't want to be a country anymore.'

'Is that what you really want?' a voice suddenly echoed.

England perked up, he turned his head around sharply in both directions, trying to find the source of the voice, but in the darkness he could see nothing.

'Here,' the voice said again.

England felt a tiny amount of pressure tug on the cuff of his sleeve and he looked down. A tiny figure was there. Her little face looked up at him and smiled gently. She seemed to radiate her own light and it reflected beautifully off her form, illuminating her features, beaming of her white gown flowing like water and shining angelically from her insect-like wings which she beat delicately.

'F-fairy,' Arthur smiled, his expression softening at seeing the little creature hovering benignly beside him. He nodded sluggishly at her question. 'For once in my life I want some peace of mind, for no one to bother me,' he said.

'But England, isn't it your choice to be noisy, to make yourself the centre of attention?' the fairy enquired.

'…It's what my bosses want,' England replied after a moments thought.

'Didn't you want it too?'

'I wanted other people to like me,' he replied before returning the bottle to his lips, '…but they never understand me'

'So what do you want to do?' asked the fairy, smiling kindly.

'Quit been a country,' England stated, 'I want to live like a normal person and die like a normal person too. I'm bored of living.' The nation buried his head into his knees and clutched the material of his trousers tightly in a futile attempt to hide himself from the world

'Well then,' said the fairy touching his hair gently.

'Well what?' England murmured not emerging from his crouched position.

'Sign this,' she finished, gesturing her hand to the air. Immediately the space beside her seemed to distort and a golden scroll manifested from no where. It shone vibrantly, golden dust seeming to melt from its surface as it unravelled itself, almost with an eager character as it flicked out its end and a shining, bronze-coloured quill formed beside it.

'W-What is it?' Arthur asked, unable to quite make out the words on the scroll with his drunken eyes.

'It's a magical contract to sign over your country to me,' the fairy replied joyfully.

'T-that's possible?'

'Of course it is England! Sign is over and you'll become a normal person, I'll look after it for you.'

England looked at the golden contract. He bit his lip, his mind suddenly a battlefield of conflicting emotions, all of which were utterly confused due to the influence of alcohol.

'You can trust me,' the fairy added, smiling and touching the country's cheek sweetly.

England paused, looking into the sprite's eyes with a lack of emotion, before he eventually also smiled in response, 'Thanks Miss Fairy,' he said before reaching out for the shining quill, its light inviting the nation to take hold of it. He grabbed it and with his hand shaking, did his best to scribble his name at the end of the scroll, 'at last,' England whispered as he signed, 'I can make some normal friends now…maybe have a family like humans do…'

'Maybe get liver cirrhosis from the alcohol consumption,' the fairy added.

'What?'

'Nothing!' she beamed brightly, 'Heh, see you later…Arthur.'

The fairy placed her hands on the signed scroll and within a moment she, her golden paper and pen had disappeared. Arthur faced ahead into the darkness where the glowing figure had been just a moment ago. He blinked wearily and felt himself nod off a little as he wondered whether what had happened had just been a dream…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Consequences

Arthur blinked. A query into how long he'd been lying there were amongst the first questions that came into his head, but the now seemingly perpetual darkness engulfing him was proof enough that it could only have been a few hours. Shakily, he struggled to his feet, swaying as he did so and trying his best to resist falling forward like a plank onto his face. He turned around to face the tree he'd been sleeping against and with one hand resting on it for balance, blindly bent down and waved his other hand around for his bottles. They weren't all empty and he disliked the thought of wasting them. Upon eventually retrieving the alcohol he staggered forward, trying his best to dodge the complex array of roots littering his path. Unfortunately he could not rely on his blind luck to guide him in the darkness for long and eventually found himself tripping quite spectacularly over a large root, falling with speed, on track to collide messily with the damp ground. As he fell, his knee dragged along a large, pointed set of rocks and upon impact he gasped from the pain of it, the sensation of a warm liquid running relentlessly down his leg soon becoming apparent.

'Urgh damnit,' he hissed. He placed one hand over the wound by instinct and screwed up his eyes a little in a futile attempt to somehow lessen the pain, 'Ah well,' he gulped, 'A cut like that can't hinder a country like me.'

Arthur struggled back to his feet, still holding and supporting his knee as much as he could in his disorientated state of mind. He continued to limp forward, pushing branches out of his way but still managing to become covered with scratches as he proceeded forward, 'T-this is hurting more than normal,' Arthur panted as he dragged his injured leg through the darkness and felt more of the warm, red liquid begin to trickle down his face from the scratches, 'W-why isn't it healing…?' At asking himself that question, he stopped and stood almost motionlessly, aside from the constant shaking of his injured leg struggling to support his weight. 'She really did it…that really happened,' he muttered to himself, 'She took my nationhood away from me…'

Arthur's eyes widened at the realisation of what was happening and then he smiled, laughing a little to himself, 'How wonderful,' he whispered whimsically as he limped his way back to civilization.

Meanwhile, England's house was getting a spectacular beating from America's fists, as he pounded the door violently while yelling 'BRITAAIN! ARE YOU HOOOOME!' and never been satisfied with the resounding silence that most people would take to mean, no, he was not home and probably would not be home any time soon if he was not in a proximity to hear his door been so viciously assaulted. After a long while of pounding on England's door and probably waking the entire neighbourhood, a more sensible Canadian appeared.

'Hey Matti,' said Alfred, panting slightly from his workout, 'I don't think he's here.'

'Maybe we should just call it a day,' Mathew sighed, tired from the travelling and searching that had led them to the property they were currently standing outside of.

'No, we can't! What if he does something stupid, what if he's drunk! You know how he gets when he's drunk!' Alfred shouted in retaliation before continuing to slam his fists on the door.

Canada rolled his eyes and the eased his hand into his coat pocket. He pulled out a large set of keys that glimmered slightly from the light of the street lamps, and fiddled through them until he found the one he was searching for. He tapped his brother on the shoulder lightly.

'What is it?' America growled as he was interrupted from his rhythmic beating.

'Maybe you should use this, instead of damaging his door any more than you already have,' replied Canada, dangling the key gently in front of the American's face.

Alfred went cross-eyed slightly as he looked at it, 'You had a key all this time!' he eventually exclaimed as the information processed in his mind, 'And why the hell do you have keys to everyone's houses anyway!'

'I get on with people?' Canada replied, a little puzzled as to why himself.

Alfred sighed in annoyance and swiped the key, turning it in the lock and swinging the door open. It was a good door to have withstood his onslaught with such valour, maybe England was used to this sort of thing and thus that was why he had a door that could defend his home so effectively. Alternatively, it could have just been a well made door.

'Wanna just wait for him then?' Alfred yawned, dropping the keys on a coffee table and quickly forgetting his long and pointless battle to get in, 'We should at least do that in case he comes home.'

'Alright,' Canada replied as he slumped down on England's sofa and felt his eyelids begin to droop from tiredness.

'Want anything to eat?' asked Alfred, 'I'll cook something. He might be hungry if he walks in and I'm starved.'

'Do you ever thing about anything other than food? It's three in the morning!' Canada exclaimed in annoyance.

'Well I'm hungry!'

'Urgh, of course you are…well, what does he have?

'British food.'  
>'How descriptive…' Canada yawned without enquiring any further.<p>

A little while later a strange smell wafted from the direction of the kitchen and despite not saying he wanted anything, America gave him a plate of god knows what, something that possibly resembled charcoal, anyway. Mathew sniffed at it a little before raising a forkful to his mouth. 'This tastes disgusting,' he said.

The two brothers soon fell asleep. Canada's head slumped itself onto America's shoulder and Alfred found himself to be lying in a rather awkward sitting position on the sofa but in a deep sleep none the less. There was a slight noise of a door squeaking open and some hurried footsteps. Canada opened one eye and raised his head a little in response to the sounds. Was someone else there? Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt the weight of a great force, but it wasn't on himself, rather indirectly from the humanoid pillow he'd been using. He felt it again and jerked his head around to see a long, heavy object that Canada could make out faintly to be a large stick, colliding over and over again with his brother's face. Alfred's body was soon sent toppling backward to slightly squash the stunned Canadian who made a quiet, exasperated 'Maple!' as he was crushed by his brother's heavy weight. Mathew squirmed of the sofa and fumbled around in an attempt to find a light switch as he heard some repeated thuds of the heavy, wooden instrument beating Alfred, who was now awake and cursing quite heavily at the attacker who was yelling 'Thieves!' quite a lot.

Eventually Canada managed to feel the outline of a light switch on the wall and he pushed it down, illuminating the odd scene. England, who was obviously quite drunk, was half sitting on America, who was obviously quite dazed, posed as if he was about to take Alfred's head off with the giant stick, that was more of a small branch, clutched powerfully in both of his hands and held up savagely above his head. Upon seeing who he'd actually been hitting, Arthur blinked and stopped momentarily while America stared up at his attacker in shock, the information processing in both their minds.

'E-Eh…A-America?' he said after a pause, 'W-what the bloody hell are you doing in my house! G-get the fuck out!' he continued with casual annoyance.

'You beat me with a stick and then just kick me out!' Alfred yelled as he pushed the drunken Briton off himself, 'I've been worried sick over you all day!'

'W-well y-you shouldn't have l-left the d-door open!' Arthur hiccupped, pointing vaguely in the direction of his door, before getting up to make his way to the kitchen, staggering a little as he went.

'You do deserve it Al,' said Canada as he followed behind the older nation.

'Quit being a whiny, bitchy, drama queen and get the fuck over it! I'm getting tired now!' shouted America as he began to instinctively rub the new sets of bruises that were beginning to puff up all over his face.

'You're getting tired of it!' Canada enquired angrily.

'As a matter of fact, yes I am!' Alfred replied, 'What do you want me to do, drop down to my knees and beg for forgiveness!'

'Yes, that'd be pretty satisfying.'

'…You ass.'

'You were an ass first.'

Alfred stuck his tongue out at his brother and then turned his attention back to the stumbling figure, who was currently retrieving some bandages from a drawer and attempting to wrap up his leg that was looking quite unpleasant.

'Artie, are you okay?' America asked, temporarily letting the fact he'd been half beaten to death in his sleep drop, 'Where the hell have you been? How'd you get that cut? Dude, are you hungry? I made dinner.' He said while pointing to an unspeakable something sitting on a plate near the stove. There was no answer from the dazed Briton who was fumbling hopelessly with the bandages and the room went quiet.

'I wouldn't eat it if I were you,' said Canada after awhile.

'Shut up!' Alfred exclaimed, 'At least I was nice enough to cook for you! I could've just made you make your own damn dinner!'

'At least it would've tasted better.'

'Alright, fine! I get it you and England both hate me! Well fu-'

'Alfred,' the drunken blonde half slurred as he continued to fiddle with his bandages.

'What?' the American growled in response.

'D-don't call me England anymore.'

'What do you mean don't call you England anymore? You are England!' Alfred growled, annoyed by the Briton's seemingly idiotic remark.

'I-I'm n-not like you anymore,' he stuttered.

'What are you talking about England?' enquired Canada, his tone now one of concern as he saw Arthur's expression seemed to be quite serious, despite been under the influence.

'Haha, you aren't too observant are you,' the Briton laughed as he gestured to the injury on his knee.

'…How long have you had that?' Canada asked, the wound suddenly making an impression in his mind.

'A few hours,' Arthur replied, 'T-this is probably the last time we should see each other,' he added.

'W-why?' said Alfred, his voice shaking slightly, as if dreading the answer.

'B-because I gave it up. I'm not a country anymore, I gave it to…someone else.'

'What do you mean by that? You can't just stop existing as a nation!' America exclaimed, 'You're drunk, you're just drunk, right?'

'I've sobered up a little but I'm a hundred percent pure human, hence this damn cut won't heal up.'

'How is that even possible?' asked Canada

'You underestimate the power of sorcery,' Arthur grumbled in reply, 'anyway, I'm so fed up of my brothers and France…and you,' he added, pointing brashly at America, 'and everyone else too. I'm glad to have a normal human life and not worry about been a country anymore.'  
>'How could you do that! Don't you care about your country and your people!' Alfred exclaimed.<p>

'And you don't know the first thing about been human to begin with!' Canada added with a panicked tone, 'Won't you ever want to step in if how the country's been run bothers you?'

'I gave it to someone who will look after it I'm sure,' Arthur replied apathetically, 'I'm tired and when you've seen as much bloodshed as me, you'd probably want to quit as well. Anyway considering my new existence I think you two better go, I'm a normal civilian now, we shouldn't be seeing each other, I assume you'll pass the message on to the others at the next world meeting?'

'Wait right there Britain, we're not going anywhere!' Alfred exclaimed, grabbing the sides of Arthur's chair and staring at him with his piercing, blue eyes. The recipient of the gaze refused to allow their lines of vision to meet and continued to concentrate, as intensively as he could manage, on finishing his bandage, trying to ignore the American who was a bit too close for comfort.

'England, this is just wrong. You're just being selfish right now! This could have major aftershocks,' said Canada, his voice a mixture of confusion, anger and desperation.

'…You were one of my closest allies-' started America.

'What the hell do you mean "closest allies!"' Arthur interrupted angrily, forsaking his previous conviction to not make eye contact. He stared ahead into Alfred's face and without looking, tied a knot in the crudely wrapped bandage. 'I just found out you intended to declare war on me you fobbish twit!'

America shook his head and clenched his fists that were sitting on the armrests of the chair. He bit his lip and stared at the floor, before posing a final question, 'How much longer do you have to live?'

The company was quiet for a moment, the two brothers fixating their eyes on the Briton who was doing his best to avert their gaze. Eventually he scoffed and spoke softly, 'I don't know…however long humans live for I suppose, maybe I'll grow old, maybe I'll get hit by a bus.' The company remained silent for a moment, the two brothers somewhat surprised by the Briton's peaceful gaze into space as he spoke fondly of a human's short life. The sereneness was however short lived and after a brief pause he turned his attention from thin air back to America and added, 'why do you care anyway Alfred, I thought you wanted rid of me.'

'I certainly didn't want you dead!' America snapped angrily in response, 'I just wanted a little space, that's all and I never actually attacked you or Matt anyway!'

'EVERYONE always wants me dead,' he countered with emphasis and exaggeration. Alfred taken aback by the sudden increase in volume removed his hands from the armrests and stared down at the Briton sadly at the thought that Arthur could really think that. 'Maybe it's time my nation got a kinder view from the rest of the world,' he continued, 'I can't seem to do that…I'm sure this if for the best. Miss Fairy will do a better job of running it than me, everyone hates me, my citizens deserve better.'

'Wait, Miss Fairy?' Canada enquired with worry.

'…Britain…just who did you give your country to?' America continued with a firm tone, returning his grip to the chair.

Arthur remained silent and didn't answer, his expression obviously showing his growing displeasure to the amount of questions.

'Tell me you didn't do this in a drunken stupor, please,' said Canada almost pleadingly.

'England. Answer me,' demanded America, his face moving closer to that of the former nation, causing him to feel cornered in the chair. Disliking the feeling of not been able to escape he pushed the American back and stood up hastily, slightly lopsided due to his knee but with a solid attempt of trying to make an intimidating stance for the sake of defending his privacy.

'Well I wanted a little space too!' he shouted, 'Hence I gave it to her! Stop interrogating me! What is this, the Spanish inquisition!

'England!' America exclaimed with a surprising amount of seriousness in his voice causing the Briton to silence and back down, 'Tell me.'

Arthur bit his lip. He wasn't used to Alfred's showing concern like this, the whole situation felt quite unnatural, '...okay okay,' he started, deciding to summarize to keep them quiet, 'I was just a tad drunk alright and kind of signed it over to a fairy I know...I'm sure she'll do a fine job with it, she's a nice girl'

The two brothers looked at each other awkwardly from the corners of their eyes, each with an expression of not knowing whether to quite believe that story, which sounded like a hallucination, but both concluding from Arthur's lack of healing that something had definitely happened.

'…we have to find out what's happening with your country England,' said Canada.

'No don't! In fact I don't want you in my house so get out!' Arthur exclaimed, his mood suddenly changing.

'What?' said Alfred as he felt himself and Canada been pushed toward the door by the Briton, who had re-armed himself with the large stick. 'I'm a human now,' he said angrily, 'I have no business with countries, get off my property!'

'You can't be serious!' Alfred exclaimed, trying to edge his way back in but been increasingly wary of the weapon been thrust violently at him.

'You regret this don't you? It was a drunken mistake!' added Canada as he felt a sharp poke in his back from the stick.

'Don't be bloody ridiculous, this was the best decision of my life!' he yelled, 'Get out, Get out!

The two nations protested but Arthur seemed to be quite effective at using what he'd made to be a wooden sword to brandish them onto the front doorstep. The brothers fell backward slightly to dodge a feral swipe from the stick and the moment they touched concrete, Arthur slammed his loyal, hardy door behind them, locking the two out in the cold night. The reverberations of the slam dispersed and the brothers stared at the house for a moment before Canada shook his head angrily.

'Great! Al, this is all your fault!' he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at his brother.

'Shut up Matt, I don't want to hear it right now…'

'No you shut up! Shut up and listen! You need to hear it, if you hadn't been such an ass to us, maybe he wouldn't have gotten himself into this mess!' the Canadian lectured furiously.

'Look, yelling and pointing fingers won't get us anywhere!'

'Because you're guilty,' Canada accused, 'You feel it and you know it!'  
>'Because we have a major problem here! He just signed his country over to a mythical creature!'<p>

There was a silence. Canada stared at America. He wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face but Mathew felt his expression screw up in annoyance at the reality he probably wouldn't manage to land and a blow, and even if he did, Alfred having any after effects of it was unlikely. That didn't mean he didn't want to try anyway though. However, despite this, Mathew knew that his brother was right and that they should try and work together to solve the problem rather than just make new problems to contend with. After dwelling on the situation for a moment, Canada sighed deeply and resumed his usual quiet, passive tone.

'Okay, fine,' he started, 'let's go find a place to watch TV, see what's going on'

The Canadian stuffed his hands into his pockets for warmth and walked ahead.

'…Matt…' America called.

'What?'

'The life spans between countries and humans are so different... he'll be gone in the blink of an eye,' he said with a subtle tone of desperation. Many other nations probably wouldn't have read Alfred's extreme worry that he was trying to contain, but there was no fooling Canada, they were twins after all.

'I'd like not to think about it…' Mathew replied, walking back to America. He looked at his brother for a moment. Alfred was deeply concerned and it was affecting him badly. No matter how angry he was, he hated to see his brother this way. Canada placed a hand comfortingly on America's shoulder and smiled gently at him, offering at least some forgiveness for the moment, 'first thing's first, c'mon,' he said, pressuring his hand slightly into his brother's back in an indication to walk forward.

Meanwhile, Arthur clambered into his bed. He pulled the duvet up close to his face and allowed his head to snuggle into the soft pillows, gently nestled by his scruffy blonde hair. He was exhausted and his mind not thinking strait at all, plagued by the combined effects of tiredness, alcohol and emotional upheaval. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes.

'...mm I did the right thing…didn't I...?' he mumbled quietly to himself.

Within moments of uttering those words, his breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm and he fell into a deep sleep.

America woke the next morning to sunlight trickling through the curtains. He sat up and ruffled his already messy bed hair and then batted his hand blindly around for his glasses before trailing himself to the bathroom. Alfred looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was pale and the dark circles under his eyes were evident of the little sleep he'd had. At least he'd managed to get a few hours though, they'd been lucky to find a room at such a ridiculous hour in the morning. Speaking of 'they' America suddenly realised that his brother was no where to be seen. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he poked his head back around the bathroom door to see the other bed was empty and that the used covers had been folded quite neatly at the bottom of the bed in unnecessary politeness to their paid hosts. He supposed Canada must be up already and had gone downstairs for breakfast. The American yawned and stretched a little before fumbling around for yesterday's clothes and putting them on awkwardly.

'Mm coffee…need coffee,' he mumbled to himself as he left the room and descended down the stairs of what he now realised to be a bed and breakfast. The owners couldn't have been happy them arriving in the early morning, but Alfred couldn't really remember much of the night before in his half-awake frame of mind.

As he descended, he heard some muffled echoing of the TV in the other room. He was intending to walk past and find the hosts in order to ask for a drink but the faint words caught his attention and he found himself pausing to listen from outside.

'And now following the weird mental trauma of Britain, it has now been officially confirmed that all the hysteria is completely localized to England only,' a news reporter could be heard to say.

'Eh…mental trauma?' Alfred yawned, still completely dazed.

'Mass depression has mysteriously washed over the whole country with politicians suddenly giving up their jobs and mass numbers of civilians committing suicide, interviews with the worst effected people claim that they 'have no country anymore' and 'can't bare to keep on living', furthermore many bizarre stories have been appearing of strange creatures killing people before disappearing. These same creatures are causing more psychological unrest amongst the population but what grounding these rumours have is still unknown. Current thoughts are that some kind of hallucinogenic and psychosis inducing drug has been put into the water supply...'

In those few minutes all the memories of the previous night suddenly fell back into Alfred's memory with a thud and he found himself in an immediate state of shocked panic.

'ENGLAND! oh my god, NOT GOOD,' he exclaimed to himself, swinging the door wide open to see Canada sipping some coffee and watching the TV.

'Al, you're up at last,' he said.

'Why didn't you wake me!'

'You needed your sleep.'

Alfred suddenly realising how quiet the place they were in was, suddenly questioned, 'Where are the owners?'

'They left early this morning…I don't know where,' Canada replied.

'Matt, we've got to get back to England's right now!' America exclaimed, grabbing his brother's arm so vigorously that the coffee split everywhere, before speeding out the door at a full sprint, a slightly stunned Canadian submissively in tow.

Some way away, Arthur was also waking up to the cool morning. The sunlight wisped its way in through the curtains and he could feel a pounding headache blast into his head the moment he'd awoken back into reality. He lifted his body into an upright sitting position and stumbled out of bed, sluggishly getting dressed and walking downstairs to his kitchen in search of tea. He poured water into the kettle and set it to boil, leaning on his hands and watching absent mindedly as the steam rose up into the air around him and he waited for that all important click to say that the water was ready. Upon hearing that blissful noise he mumbled, 'damn hangover,' and poured the hot liquid through a tea strainer and onto a tea bag, 'I feel…sad…' he continued as he added milk and a little sugar, 'maybe some air.' With the drink complete, he decided to take the mug and head outdoors, the sight that met his eyes was unexpected.

The entire street was silent. Deathly silent. There was not a single car, or bus, or vehicle of any kind. The only signs that people existed there at all were morbid and in the form of the odd body that littered the road, laying dead and motionless. 'W-what happened,' Arthur muttered to himself before the realisation of last nights events came flooding back into his head. 'I-I thought that was a dream!' he stuttered, slamming the door shut again fearfully and clutching his mug in the apparent safety of his own home, 'H-how bloody drunk did I get! W-What in God's name am I going to do!' The tea shook violently in his hands, small amounts of the liquid running up the sides and scolding his skin. The pain didn't seem to bother him however as the emotional stress of what was happening was enough for his mind to bare. 'W-what am I going to do…' he repeated as he walked to his living room window and looked out at the silent street. His green eyes peered out fearfully to the world but his attention lay not on the deserted nature of his neighbourhood, nor the unnatural silence echoing all around but was captured by something else. A tall building, not too far into the distance. He stared at it, somehow consumed.

'ENGLAND!' Alfred yelled thumping his fists once again on Arthur's sturdy door.

'England!' Canada also called, more politely rapping his fist against the window while looking in to see any sign of the former nation. 'He's not here…?' Canada half-whispered after a time of relentless knocking.

'But he's gotta be!' shouted Al in an exasperated fashion.

'Maybe he's giving us the cold shoulder,' theorized Canada.

'At a time like this! Fine we're going in!'

'I left the keys inside-'

'No time anyway!' Alfred announced as he raised up one leg and smashed it with all the force he could muster into Arthur's hardy, enduring door, causing the weakened frame to at last relent. The wood split from its hinges and it fell backward, landing on the hall floor with a resounding thud, splinters and shards bursting into the air before calming and fluttering gently back to the ground. The door was defeated.

'Are you crazy!' Canada exclaimed, 'He's not gonna like that-'

'Country versus a human, who do you think'll win?' Alfred countered, walking briskly into the hall and calling for his friend as loudly as his lungs would allow.

Canada quickly followed and the two brothers were soon scouring his whole house, looking in every single room, even the more obscure, creepy ones the two usually avoided.

'Al I can't find him anywhere,' said Mathew after rejoining his brother after quite some time searching, 'I looked in all the rooms, even the cellar, he's just not here!'

America bit his lip, quite unsure of what to do in this situation, when suddenly a familiar, unshaven face poked his head around what used to be a door. The combination of fiery auburn hair and thick, bushy eyebrows could only belong to one individual.

'England, where the fucking hell are you!' Scotland yelled, giving Canada and America a shock, 'A joke's a joke, my county is having severe economy problems thanks to whatever the fuck you think you're doing!'

'He's not here!' Canada retaliated, recovering from the surprise of the Scotsman's unexpected shouting.

'Oh you two,' said Scotland, lowering the volume of his voice upon noticing them, 'you're trying to find that attention seeking bastard too then?'

'Scotty, Scotty!'

At hearing his affectionate nickname, the disgruntled Scotsman turned his head around to meet the brisk, blonde haired Ireland standing cheerfully behind him. Judging from his bright expression, he was obviously not as concerned for England's wellbeing as his brother as he'd left the house to fend for himself a long while ago and no longer had the close connections Scotland did.

'What is it?' Scotland growled.

'I think I saw England,' he replied quite happily.

'Well where the hell is he!' Scotland hissed, not in any mood to have Ireland delay the efficiency to which he'd have his hands around England's throat.

'On top of an office block…looking quite depressed.'

At hearing this, Scotland's anger seemed to vent somewhat at the thought that gravity may cause the pain he'd been delayed in enforcing himself.

'What's wrong with him,' he huffed, 'Oh well, deserves the agony after putting us through all of this, it's not like jumping of a building will kill a country.'

At hearing the short exchange, America and Canada's eyes widened with every word, their hearts were racing so fast that they thought they'd beat out of their bodies and both could feel shudders and the forming of a cold sweat as they realised what the true consequences of Ireland's statement was. England, or rather Arthur, could die.

America leapt forward and grabbed Ireland's arm, pulling him out into the street and running as fast as his legs would carry him.

'TAKE ME TO HIM,' America yelled, 'AND DON'T STOP RUNNING!' 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**The Soul is Empty**

'What the hell!' Ireland yelled as he felt himself been dragged back along the road, barely able to keep himself from been trailed along the street as he struggled to keep up with America's intense pace.

'H-he's human now!' Canada shouted from behind, running at a much slower speed.

'He'll die, c'mon!' panted Alfred at his butter blonde companion, tugging at him forcefully in a repetitive attempt to increase his haste in the situation.

'What do you mean? That's impossible!' exclaimed Scotland as he caught up to Canada, thoroughly confused at the twins' suddenly bizarre behaviour.

'It's not impossible! He'll die!' America bellowed from the front, half-deafening Ireland who's blood was quickly draining from his left arm due to the pressure in which it was been squeezed by Alfred.

'He wouldn't!' Scotland shouted in reply, gritting his teeth angrily in the utter conviction that sprinting after America and his abducted Irish brother was nothing other than idiocy. He did however not allow his pace to slow and continued to run with the group none the less, reassuring himself that the sharp stabs of pain beginning to form in his side were of coarse in the noble name of finding his brother and killing him personally. 

'He's up there!' Ireland eventually heaved with exhaustion as the company arrived at the bottom of a dull, grey office block. America rashly released his victim who keeled over to rest the weight of his upper body onto his knees and inhaled deeply in an attempt to recover from his marathon. Alfred meanwhile craned his neck up in haste. The Irishman had been correct, up at the top of the building was Arthur, standing at the very edge, his hair and clothing dancing viciously in the strong winds and his body seeming to wobble back and forth amongst the chaotic movement of the blustering fabric. Alfred felt his heart racing, not because he'd just sprinted all the way here, but because his friend could fall at any time and there would be nothing he could do about it.  
>'Oh God no…' he whispered to himself, his blue eyes frozen open at the sight above him, the rest of the world equally motionless in time at that moment. Should he stay here in case he jumped or run to remove him from danger? His body tensed into an awkward stance as his mind was torn indecisively between the two options, a single bead of cold sweat trickling down his forehead seemingly the only part of him that could show any sign of resolute movement, but then in an action that wrenched him out of his frozen reality, he felt a strong pressure on his arm as a hand squeezed his wrist and pulled him out of his tension.<p>

'Hurry Al!' exclaimed Canada with as much volume his exhausted body could muster, 'Get up there!'

Canada met his brother's eyes with a determined gaze before giving him a sharp push in the back to provide a final jolt to release him from his fixating fear. Alfred, regaining his sense of urgency at his brother's welcome intervention, pushed his body into a dash and burst through the doors of the building. He slammed his figure onto the lift door of the first floor and manically began to smash his finger onto the little arrow button.

'Hurry up!' he growled frenziedly until his eyes fell onto a small 'out of order' sign blue-tacked on the wall to the side of him. His eyes opened wide with horror and he immediately found himself leaping onto the staircase and pounding up it, floor after floor melting away behind him as he ascended, not acknowledging for a moment that his muscles were screaming from the pain of exhaustion as he forced them to keep climbing, his mind focused only on getting England the hell of this building and somewhere safe.

'ARTIE DON'T DO IT! PLEASE DON'T DO IT!' Alfred yelled as he slammed open the door to the roof and stood their momentarily, catching his breath desperately and watching England with an expression of complete and utter terror.

For a long while America's rapid, deep breathing and the furious winds that were beating the two figures were the only sounds that seemed to be audible. The Briton remained stationary, doing nothing but peering down to the street below, ignoring the presence of the other and teetering his feet dangerously toward the edge but after some time he eventually motioned his head to the side slightly so as to acknowledge the American's existence with the courtesy of a visual exchange. Alfred felt his heart sink somehow even more as he saw the face that greeted him. Arthur's expression was blank and his usually bright, green eyes were now dull and lifeless as if behind them his spirit had died. His complexion was pale and sickly looking, his windswept hair appearing to be even more unkempt than usual, his vulnerable, introverted stance a look that was most unbefitting his usual cynical, independent character.

'Oh…it's just you,' Arthur at last mumbled in an almost trance-like fashion.

'What's wrong with you!' Canada exclaimed amongst excessive panting as he joined his brother on the rooftop, 'A gentleman would never do this would he!'

'A-Artie, y-you have to think about this, please, just come here' stuttered Alfred, trying his best to disguise his heavy, panicked breathing with a more reasonable tone in an attempt to coax Arthur away from the edge. It did not succeed as the figure merely turned his head back to face the open sky lying between him and the street below. America made a movement to run toward him but he suddenly felt a sharp pull from his brother, freezing him in his tracks.

'Wait Al,' Canada whispered, 'It said on the news that a lot of English people were committing suicide in mass numbers. England's a civilian now, he's been affected by whatever is happening to everyone else. I don't think this is something we can talk him out of!'

'What the hell are you two talking about!' Scotland growled as he joined the group. He pushed gruffly past the younger nations and let his eyes fall savagely on the pitiful figure that stood ahead. Scotland's heavy breathing was not the result of exhaustion, as he didn't see the point in wasting energy tearing up several flights of stairs without what he thought to be a good reason, rather it was a deep inhalation of rage. 'Oi England!' he yelled aggressively to the broken looking man ahead, 'If you jump you're just going to be suffering with some broken bones for quite awhile! If you want pain come over here, I'll cause you more than you can take if you don't stop fuckin' around and start fuelling your economy again-'

'S-Shut up!' America hissed as he thrust his hands around Scotland's mouth in a desperate attempt to silence him.

'H-Hey Scotty, maybe something really did happen,' said Ireland with a concerned expression as he at last also made it to the roof, 'Loads of his citizens died, there might be something wrong.'

'Oh well observed,' snapped Canada, 'seriously what is up with you two, show some concern!'  
>'E-England,' America started, keeping surprisingly good conscious control over both his tone of voice and the exhausting battle to partially restrain the fuming Scotsman, 'I know you're upset right now but…we'd just like you to step away from the edge. Can we talk? Have some tea?'<p>

Arthur ignored the words and continued to look despondently ahead. America waited with baited breath in the hope a different response would follow, but when no desirable reaction occurred, he released the raging auburn haired man and walked forward cautiously, fearfully taking extra care to not make any sudden movements that might cause the Englishman to fall several storeys to his death. The others seemed to hold their breaths as the American approached, even Scotland was somehow caught up in the moment and watched silently with interest. Alfred extended out a hand, willing desperately for his friend to grab hold of it so he could pull him into relative safety.

'Please,' he said, 'Just step over here, England.'

The Briton turned his head a little so as to make eye contact. He then peered at the hand and then back over the edge. 'Don't call me that anymore,' he murmured, 'My name's Arthur, use it.'

Alfred pulled a face of frustration but then gritted his teeth and said, 'Then please…Arthur.' He reached his hand out a little more, arm tense and fingers outstretched and then after what felt like an age, to his relief, a hesitant, shaking hand slowly edged toward his in return. In the essence of gaining the trust of a wild animal, America waited for Arthur to make skin contact, the Briton's shaking fingers wavering ever closer, almost touching, when suddenly the moment was shattered by an angry exclamation.

'Quit actin' like a child!' fumed Scotland, 'Someone kill your unicorn? You always say that you're the most mature so act it!'  
>'Y-you don't understand…' Arthur mumbled dejectedly, quickly recoiling his hand, 'I can't feel anyone anymore but…the whole nation has lost its will to live-'<p>

'What are you talking about you moron!' Scotland yelled, 'You're such an annoying, obnoxious waste of space! And now you're deliberately acting all depressed and destroying our economy, as well as murdering your own people! How low can you get!'

Arthur's eyes began to shine with tears and he bowed his head in a weak tribute to his former character, in an attempt to not allow the others to see the weakness of crying. His expression was plastered with melancholy and his spirit was so completely crushed he couldn't even attempt a simple sentence to dispute his brother's words. In that moment Alfred wanted nothing more than to throw Scotland off the roof for interrupting his mission of removing Arthur from that edge but he was too terrified to move from his spot in case England jumped.

'S-Scotty, m-maybe-' Ireland started.

'No! I've had enough with that damn idiot.' The Scotsman snapped ferociously before stomping towards the stairs, clenching his fists furiously as he went. As he thudded onto the first step he suddenly stopped for a moment and then deciding he had more to say, whipped back around brashly and bellowed at his brother, 'You're a nation, start acting like one! Until you do, I'll save your people myself!' The roof echoed in the resounding silence that Scotland's words left behind, no one, not even America wanting to contend him. The Scotsman heaved deeply in his anger but he then looked down slightly and in a far quieter, solemn tone muttered, 'They may not be Scottish but they're still Britons,' before turning for a final time and descending down the stairs, cursing heavily as he went.  
>Ireland watched the auburn hair disappear from view. He felt torn between staying to help England and running after his other brother. Eventually Ireland's green eyes turned to meet Arthur's, 'Brother, don't hurt yourself anymore than you already have,' he smiled gently before turning his attention to address the twins and continued, 'I've got to go help Scotty, look after him for us.' He gestured to Arthur by nodding toward him slightly before turning on his heals and dashing down the stairs in hot pursuit.<p>

Canada looked ahead to his brother and the former England, the party now in a deathly, cold silence. The wind whipped at his hair harshly and for the good of all of them he knew they had to leave the rooftop. 'Don't listen to Scotland,' the Canadian eventually voiced as he cautiously approached the other two.

'H-he's right though,' Arthur hiccupped through his tears as he dropped to his knees and sat still on the cold, concrete roof, miserably clutching his hair agonizingly tighter than what could be deemed comfortable, 'I'm killing everyone, it's all my fault…please, I want to be alone.'  
>'We're not going anywhere,' said America kneeling down beside him, 'Eng-errr-Arthur. You just made a mistake but it can be fixed.'<p>

'Yeah but only if you decide to try and fix it,' Canada added.  
>The former nation didn't reply and only looked emotionlessly ahead of himself.<p>

'If you don't Arthur, millions of people will be dead as a result of this,' said Alfred darkly, cupping Arthur's face in his hands and pulling his head into a position where they had direct eye contact, 'and I mean more than just your own people. If other countries are dragged down by this anything can happen.'

The former nation didn't reply.

'You can come live with me or Matt for a while until you regain yourself... right Matt?' Alfred went on, trying to turn the conversation a little lighter.

'Of course you can. And we can all work this out. But first you have to make the choice to live.'

Tears began to stream down the Briton's face, suddenly incapable of been restrained any longer. 'I-I thought I'd feel good after becoming human,' he sniffed 'why is everyone so miserable all of a sudden? I just wanted to live like a normal person...why did this have to happen, why couldn't it be a normal day, why do I feel so sick and energy less, why isn't miss fairy doing good things…why do I want to end it all!' He curled up and made continuous, weak movements to motion the other two away all the while furthering his proximity to a position of dangerously less concrete between himself and the ground. Alfred hastily grabbed his shoulders and pulled Arthur back, holding him tightly in his arms.

'I'm sorry England,' he muttered, 'but you have no choice. You're going to live.' Giving up on bringing him willingly, America placed one of Arthur's arms around his shoulders and lifted him up gently. Arthur's weak attempts at a struggling protest were quickly subdued by the American's superior physical and mental strength and eventually he ceased his movement and allowed his body to go limp. As the group at last departed from the cold, blustery rooftop, America was sure he could feel the former nation form a weak grip on his shoulders as if he was seeking the warmth and comfort sometimes only companionship can bring.

'Hahaha! Didn't I tell you, we can finally reclaim the land that is ours! We can do away with all the horrid things the humans have built and kick out that repulsive species once and for all!' A fairy lilted as she danced delicately with her golden contract.

'H-how are you doing this my lady?' said another fairy warily, her tiny, glimmering form exercising caution as she approached the other 'the humans are dropping like flies!'

'Ah Tesni, so ignorant!' the first sprite replied, much to a dark glare from the other wispy being, 'With this!' she then smiled gesturing to the incandescent scroll before her while stroking its otherworldly form with glee.

'T-that's…'

'An unbreakable contract, with England's signature on it!' the fairy exclaimed with a strange amount of volume for such a small and delicate body, 'Hence forth I am the new ruler of this country! I am the Queen of this Earth!'

The fairy named Tesni remained silent. Her short, golden hair shone in the light of the scroll and she watched the other with a silent concern, keeping her distance and beating her light, insect-like wings passively.

'I'm using it to broadcast psychic energies to its human inhabitants,' the other went on, reading through the words of the contract over and over as if it comforted her to do so, 'They're ignorant and don't understand this is no longer a place ruled by man.'

'B-but,' Tesni interrupted, 'Isn't this somewhat…cruel? Wouldn't it be better if we could teach the humans to live in peace with us…isn't that what England would want?'

'England?' she lilted somewhat angrily, causing the other fairy to flinch backward in mild fear, 'Whatever do you mean? I'm England now!'

'B-but you said he gave you the country to look after-'

'And I am looking after it!' she exclaimed angrily, despising the fact that her ideals were been challenged, 'I'm going to restore it, free from human scum! They're all bad, each and every single one! I'm going to rule this country as the all powerful fairy witch, none shall defy me!'

Tesni chose not argue. She was aware that this being had a power far beyond herself and there was nothing she could do to persuade her to reconsider her plans for the kingdom she'd just obtained. Echoing around other soft voices could soon be heard chanting, 'Long live the Queen, long Live the Queen!' and the fairy seemed to bathe in the appreciation she was receiving, smiling joyfully all around at her new subjects and promising to return to them the land they'd lost. After absorbing the good will of her people she turned her attention back to Tesni with a sudden look of seriousness.

'There is however one, small, problem,' she said.

'A problem?'

'Yes, despite having all this power I still have resistance. This Earth doesn't yet recognize me as its Empress. Its loyalty still resides with…him.'

'And this will cause you trouble?' Tesni enquired.

'Yes…but it will be one quickly corrected.' The fairy replied with a sinister expression.

'How, by killing him? He is mortal now.'

'No, I have something else in plan for him,' she smiled darkly. Tesni could visibly see a malicious plan beginning to form in her new Queen's expression. Whatever it was her leader intended to do to the former England, she was just extremely glad that she wasn't him.

'I want a new body, one fit for my royal position,' the Queen abruptly declared. She extended her arms out and closed her eyes softly. Suddenly a purple smoke began to envelope her tiny form. It swarmed her, flowing around her, through her and then it began to circle, enclosing her body in a rapidly spinning vortex of a cocoon, metamorphosing the conjurer into a new shape. Her golden locks darkened to black, her eyes took on the shine of emeralds, her body grew tall, wings disintegrated into dust. 'The shape of a human…' she whispered musically in the light of her transformation, 'yet elegant and one not tainted by the prospects of death.'

The smoke dispersed, revealing her new form, that of a beautiful, earthly human.

'I-it is certainly a look fit for a nation,' Tesni stuttered fearfully, in both awe and terror of such powers.

'Yes,' she giggled in agreement, 'and in this guise I'll have the humans destroy themselves.' 

Matt, keep an eye on him,' said Alfred quietly to his brother as he paced through the door-less entrance of Arthur's house and lay down it's occupant on the sofa. The former nation had fallen asleep from his mental exhaustion and was now breathing gently, a tranquil expression on his face. America smiled at him softly. He looked so peaceful like that. The incident on the rooftop was now dissolving into a nightmare of the past. Alfred clenched his fists subtly, he had to do something, he didn't want to see England in that state ever again.

'I'm going to sort out my country's affairs,' America continued after looking at the sleeping Arthur for quite some time, 'I'll try and sort yours out along with mine if you watch him.'

'What!' Mathew exclaimed, 'I don't want you sorting out my affairs! It's my country!'

'Well someone has to watch him,' America replied bluntly, pointing at the sleeping figure, 'he's gonna hurt himself and I don't think you can sort out my country.'

'What's that supposed to mean!' he questioned angrily, 'I could sort out yours fine!'

'Why are you fighting me?' Alfred sighed.

'Because you-!'

'Ugh, Fine, I don't have time for this, forget it,' America snapped angrily, becoming frustrated, 'Do what you want, but don't let him out of your sight.'

'How come you can't watch him?' Canada enquired in irritation.

'Because my people are getting effected!'

Alfred breathed heavily, looking his brother strait in the eyes to show him he was serious. Canada returned the look with one of shock.

'B-but how?' he eventually stuttered.

'Heh…you should have just let me jump of that building,' a voice murmured from behind them as a head of messy, blonde hair raised itself up wearily.

'Stop it!' Mathew exclaimed, turning his attention to the Briton flopped on the sofa.

'Why did you bring me here…' he continued, 'you would have let me jump if it didn't effect your people,'

'That isn't true!' Alfred exclaimed at Arthur before turning back to his brother, 'Matt, this hysteria…I can feel it, I need to get things in order.'

'Go take care of what you need to,' Canada eventually sighed in understanding, 'Be quick though.'

'I'll do my best,' America replied, 'And England, or Arthur, or whatever the hell you wanna be called right now, you have to stop this.' With that the American paced into the other room. He knew that England kept a computer somewhere around here and he was intent on finding it but as he left he found himself hanging around near the doorway for a moment. He allowed his back to lean on the wall and listened to the other two converse while wondering what on Earth he was meant to do in this situation.

'Arthur, what's wrong, why are you acting like this,' said Mathew sitting down on the floor.

'I told you didn't I,' he replied.

'Not particularly, but well, if you're human now, then you and all the other people are been affected by the same thing right? And that's why you're all suicidal?'

Arthur shrugged apathetically and let his body fall limply back onto the arm rest of the sofa.

'Talk to me,' Mathew pressed, 'Let us help you, you don't want to feel this way do you?'

The recipient of Canada's words faced away into the cushions trying to avert eye contact but eventually, sensing that the nation was watching him meticulously, answered him with a small shake of his head, 'No,' he said, 'but I can't help it.' The Briton rolled back over so as he could see the Canadian and held his cushion tightly as if it would protect him from any unwanted inquiring. 'I just feel this way and I feel worse because I caused this to happen and now even America is having problems…and Scotland really hates me. He'd probably be happy if I killed myself.'

'Stop thinking about that!' exclaimed Canada, clasping Arthur's shoulders tightly, 'tell us how to stop this!'

Arthur stared expressionlessly into Canada's blue eyes before allowing his own to roll off to the doorway, 'still there America?' he asked drudgingly.

'Stop changing the subject!' said Canada, pulling Arthur back to face him.

The Briton looked into his face with an irritated expression, in little mood to be relentlessly badgered. 'Sign the contract back to me I suppose,' he eventually sighed.

'Contract?'

'Yes, the contract Miss Fairy got me to sign but she won't sign it back to me I'm sure,' he replied before yawning deeply and closing his eyes.

'Alright… sleep for now,' muttered Canada before calling for his brother 'Al! Do you know where the blankets are in here!'

'Upstairs, hallway closet!' a voice echoed back from the other room.

Mathew got to his feet and wondered up the staircase. He contemplated how Alfred know where the bedding was but considering he often self-invited himself to stay at England's house maybe he remembered from one of those many times. Canada pulled the handle of the closet he assumed must be the one and selected a warm blanket from the topmost shelf, before closing the door firmly behind and descending back down the stairs and into the living room. He gently lay the cover over Arthur and tucked it around him carefully. He was completely out of it. His expression was one of exhaustion and Canada was happy he'd dropped off so quickly because that at least made him easy to keep an eye on.

'What a day it's been,' he muttered to himself as he inserted himself in the small space left on the sofa and relaxed into the cushions. 

After a while, Alfred rejoined the duo in the living room, stretching his body as he walked and his face looking a little less concerned then before. 'I've stabilized things enough for the moment,' he yawned, 'though I'm not sure how to deal with my people…I ordered the news to stop broadcasting anything on the situation accept for important details. I figured that might be a source of the problem-'

'He says there's a contract,' Mathew interrupted.  
>'Contract?'<p>

'Yeah,' replied Canada, moving his line of sight from his brother down to the sleeping Briton beside him, 'He signed his country over through a contract. I suppose to get things back to normal we have to find some way of negating it.'

'But…who has it?' America asked slowly, trying to get his head around the concept.

'The "fairy",' said Canada with an air of cynicism, 'I'm not sure if he was imagining that or not but whoever's causing all this chaos is unquestionably the one with the contact.'  
>The two paused, neither sure quiet what to say. In all their years of living neither of them had encountered such a situation of a country signing over their existence to another being. It was hard for them to believe it was even possible.<p>

'I'm gonna call Uncle Scotland,' announced Canada, breaking the silence and materializing England's phone from his pocket and musing through it for the number. He was glad in that moment he didn't give the phone to Wales for safe keeping, aside from England and Ireland, the other brothers didn't make a habit of giving out their numbers to far off nations and were therefore quite hard to contact for an outsider. Putting the phone on loudspeaker so that America could also participate in the conversation if he chose to, Canada dialled the number and waited patiently for the recipient to pick up.

'Hi,' a gruff voice eventually groaned.

'Hello Scotland,' replied Canada politely.

'Eh…who is this?' the gruff voice mumbled in some confusion

'It's Canada.'

'…Who?'

'Canada!'

There was a short silence while the Scotsman tried to process the reply, eventually he seemed to give up on the idea of remembering who was talking to him and decided to just get on with things.

'Okay…' he slurred, 'So er…what can I do for you?'

'Erm, well it's about England,' started Canada gently, 'he said he signed a contract to give his country over to someone else…'

'Oh you were that guy from this morning!' Scotland hiccupped in a sudden realisation.

'Yes!' Canada exclaimed irritably.

America rolled his eyes before nudging his brother out of the way and spoke himself. 'England signed his country over to a fairy,' he said simply.

The room was silent for a moment, all accept for the sound of movement as the sleeping Briton rolled onto his other side.

'Well, I d-duno what to do about that-' the Scotsman started before a slight chocking sound could be heard as the speaker seemed to be pulled away from the phone. The two brothers looked at each other with confused expressions before their mental queries were answered as Scotland's distinctive accent was replaced with the musical voice of his island brother.

'Are you trying to make a fool of Scotty?' Ireland demanded

'W-what do you mean?' enquired America puzzled.

'You can't sign a country over to a fairy!' he replied irritably.

'Well can't you? England did it,' replied Canada.

There was a short pause before Ireland replied, 'but who in their right mind would!'

'He wasn't in the right mind,' Alfred contributed, 'he was depressed and drunk.'

'Well then…' Ireland said thoughtfully, '…that's not good at all.'

'Obviously! How do we fix this!' America snapped.  
>'Er well…I suppose find the fairy in question?' said Ireland, half questioning his own idea.<p>

'How the hell are we meant to do that!' Alfred growled beginning to rap his fingers on England's coffee table in annoyance.

'Well I don't know!' exclaimed Ireland defensively, 'I don't know every fairy England talks to do I!'

'Come on you've got to think of something,' said Canada desperately, 'there's been so much death in just a single day, we can't wait!'

'...Well where are you?'

'England's house,' Canada stated.

'Okay, I'm nearby I'll come over.'

'You're going over there!' Scotland's gruff voice echoed through the line, 'What are you mad? Thought you hated England more than any of us!'

'Not to the extent I wished this on him!' he hissed at his brother, 'b-besides, when we aren't trying to kill each other, we get on quite well, he's got the magical sense ya know…'

'Yeah yeah,' Scotland slurred.

Turning his attention back to the phone Ireland stated, 'I'll come over soon, I suppose for now, just try and interrogate him, get as much information as you can.'

'Thanks, hurry okay?' replied Alfred before disconnecting. 

The two looked solemnly at each other and then the sleeping body before them. He looked so weak and frail. They would both have much rather left him sleeping but knowing Ireland was probably right, Alfred eventually edged over and rubbed the Briton's arm in an attempt to wake him up.

'What do we ask him first?' Alfred unintentionally whispered out of instinct.

'…I dunno,' said Canada, 'I suppose…what the fairy looked like?'

There was a pause, and then Alfred turned to look at his brother with an unusual expression of deep thought, before voicing, 'Are all fairies girls?'

'I…think so?' replied Canada, a little confused as to the relevance of the question.

'If they are…then are they man-women?'

'What?' Canada half coughed in response.

'Well you can't have an all female race,' America stated.

'I think you can…' said Canada slowly, thinking it over in his head before suddenly, in realisation of what they were talking about, shook his head to rid himself of the insanity and posed to his brother a simple question, 'Why do you care, what has this got to do with anything?'

'How can you not?' Alfred replied with mild surprise, 'Isn't it weird?'

'They're magical,' said Canada bluntly, 'They can make babies however the hell they want.'

'But don't they ever just wanna f-'

Canada clasped his hand over America's mouth as he heard a low grumble from the sofa as the Briton turned in his sleep. Been overheard to be discussing something so ridiculous was not a situation the Canadian particularly wanted to find himself in.  
>'Shush, he's waking up,' whispered Mathew as he released his hands from around his brothers face as he felt his fingers been painfully pried away.<br>'…You two are still here…?' groaned Arthur upon awakening.

'Y-yeah, how are you feeling?' asked Canada awkwardly.

'…The same.'

'I see…er we have to ask you some questions, and you have to answer them so we can help you alright?' Canada went on.

Arthur ignored him and refused to even acknowledge the sentence with a grunt.  
>'Arthur, the world needs you to cooperate. If you want to get out of this damned hole you dug, then quit feeling sorry for yourself and grow a pair,' Alfred contributed.<p>

'America!' Canada exclaimed, 'H-he's right though Arthur, you have to let us help-'

Arthur groaned and rolled back over in a blunt statement that he wasn't particularly interested in talking right now.

'Matt,' said Alfred.

'Yeah?'  
>'Can you leave us for a few minutes?' he requested, keeping his gaze absent from both parties, his eye line fixed firmly on the Briton's beige carpet.<p>

'Why?' questioned the Canadian, thinking that both of them together would have a better chance of squeezing out information.

'Please,' America replied simply.

Mathew paused for a moment, before deciding that in this circumstance he'd trust his brother and stood up, 'Okay, tell me if he decides to help,' he said before walking away into Arthur's kitchen and shutting the door gently behind himself.

'Arthur. No…England,' America started staring determinedly at the stubborn Briton, 'I don't care if you're human, you're still England.'

The former nation grumbled inaudibly into the back of his sofa in an incomprehensible but clear expression that he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, the American however was not going to be deterred from saying what he wanted, at least not by a muffled groan.

'If this is a result of what you and Matt found out earlier…I'm sorry. I didn't really want to hurt you…I was just…scared, that you'd try and gain control of me again,' Alfred explained diffidently, 'It's not like I want nothing to do with you, I just want to be independent and be in charge of things.'

Alfred paused, hoping for some kind of reaction from Arthur, when he got none he continued.

'I mess things up and this time I really messed up but at least…at least I try to fix it.'

He knelt down and placed one hand on Arthur's shoulder, willing him to turn around and face him, to tell him he'd be okay and that they'd and sort out the problem.

'This is so cowardly of you,' America said through gritted teeth, 'To just lie here and cry while everyone's begging for you to pull yourself together. This is so unlike you, you used to be so…great.'

The former nation turned to look at the young country from the corner of his eye. As their lines of sight met, Alfred was suddenly overcome with a desire he hadn't felt for a very long time. Without thinking he reached forward and grasped the Briton's shoulders pulling him into a tight hug. Arthur gasped in surprise, unable to process a response. America held him tightly, resting the Briton's head into the warmth of his jacket and laying his own cheek onto Arthur's messy, unruly hair. Alfred clasped at the material of his friend's shirt in his melancholic frustration at his powerlessness to do nothing but hope that somehow both his sadness and his affections would reach the England he knew was still there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Into the Lion's Den**

Canada's ears pricked up as he heard the sound of a wall been knocked on rather hesitantly. He pushed himself up from the chair he'd been comfortably seated in and paced towards where the front door used to be, the mighty frame of wood still lying dead and splintered on the hallway floor before him and an unpleasant cold breeze now furiously roaring its way through the entirety of the house as a result. Canada shuddered as the bitter wind caught him. In what was now a door-less entrance, Ireland retracted his fist from the wall as he spotted the Canadian's approach, the puzzled glance he gave the fallen door immediately satisfied by Mathew's, 'do I even need to say who did that' returned look of irritation.

Canada smiled gently and stood politely aside to allow the other nation an unobstructed entry but as he began to open his mouth in a greeting, he was immediately silenced by an infuriated screech echoing from the living room.

'I was never going to control you again you damn git!' an enraged Arthur could be heard exclaiming through the door, 'and I'm not feeling sorry for myself a-and I'm not a coward!'

Ireland and Canada flinched back suddenly as the door to the living room suddenly burst open and a rather startled American was pushed brashly through it by an infuriated Briton. Upon Alfred's passing of the boarder between Arthur's living room and his hallway, the Englishman's mood calmed momentarily into more of a sustained baneful glare, as he noticed the presence of his brother and Canada and took note of their surprised expressions. He bit his lip and then reuniting his eye line with Alfred's, hissed more quietly, 'I don't need your pity, or your comfort, or to be close to you in any shape or form.' He rubbed his arms a little in a subconscious movement of his dislike to their earlier embrace and then finished with a barely audible, 'don't do that again,' before retreating back into the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

'W-what the hell did you say to him?' asked Canada, completely taken aback by what had just happened.

America couldn't think of how to answer that question and remained strangely quiet in response.

'Well at least it sort of perked him up,' Canada added upon seeing that his brother wasn't going to answer, 'it was just like the old England at first…'

The group stood awkwardly, none of them quite sure what to say in further response of the incident, when suddenly their ears pricked up once more as distinct sounds of scratching and rustling could be heard from the wooden floor just beneath the door. They stared mystified for a moment and then to their surprise, a small piece of paper was pushed underneath. Alfred raised one eyebrow in puzzlement and then bent down to retrieve it. On one side was a strange circle with a few symbols and on the other, very small in the bottom-left hand corner of the page, was the word 'sorry' hastily scribbled and barely legible. The American smiled to himself and in a sudden instinct to protect the privacy of what had just gone on between him and the former nation, subtly tore off the corner hosting the crude apology and pocketed it, before turning back to the other two and holding out the note for them to inspect.

'What's this?' Canada quietly asked, 'I think England's lost it.'

'It's just a spell to summon fairies,' Ireland stated casually, taking the piece of paper from Alfred's extended hand for a closer look, 'but that's not much use at all,' he went on 'I could have come up with that on my own, it's just a standard spell. Is this seriously his idea of helping?'

Canada threw America a slightly irritated look. 'And to think I thought you were making progress,' he hissed in annoyance.  
>'Well, this one's a little different' Ireland added quickly upon a more detailed study, 'I can use this one and see if it makes a difference.'<p>

The Irishman knelt down onto the floor and waved the other two off slightly. They moved back a little, looking on with both interest and the feeling of despair that their adoptive uncle believed in such things. Ireland slipped his hand into his pocket and after a little rummaging, materialized some chalk, which he then quickly began to scrape on the floor as he meticulously copied out the circle from Arthur's piece of paper.

'You just happen to carry chalk around with you?' Alfred asked in amusement.

'You never know when you may need it,' Ireland murmured as he continued to pull the white stick across the wood of the floor in a smooth fashion. America wondered if England would appreciate his floor been defaced and giggled to himself thinking of his response. He was known to draw magic circles in his cellar but he probably wouldn't appreciate his shiny wooden floor been scribbled on. Upon finishing, the Irishman fell back slightly onto his heals, stood up and stepped backward.

There was a pause before Canada hesitantly posed the awkward question of 'now what?'

'We chant!' Ireland beamed joyfully, turning to the brothers with excitement, 'first we have to all hold hands and call for the fairies together!'

The two brothers gave him a returned look of anything but enthusiasm.

'Is that really necessary?' asked Canada.

'No not really,' Ireland chuckled, 'just to get us all in the mood you know.'

Upon exempting the other two from the exercise, Ireland closed his eyes and breathed deeply before beginning to chant on his own. Some time went by and the brothers gave each other looks of slight concern as they questioned the sanity of the man currently sharing the room with them. This characteristic of England and his brothers really did unnerve them but as they began to feel a passive anger at the thought they were all wasting valuable time doing some insane, questionably satanic ritual that was achieving nothing, suddenly to their surprise and shock, the circle began to glow and something formed in its centre. The light faded and a small creature looked up deliriously, its small wings beating weakly as it rose its head in confusion.

'W-where am I?' it stuttered in its high pitch voice as Ireland suddenly banged a glass over the small creature before it could regain its senses to ascertain the nature of its surroundings. The being's energy quickly returned and almost immediately it began to slam its tiny fists on the glass and squealed cries of help as Ireland knelt down and peered intently.

'What's that?' America asked hesitantly, in a state of shock at the fact he'd just seen what could only be classed as magic.

'A fairy, what does it look like?' Ireland replied.

'R-right…' Alfred stuttered, still trying to get his head around how on earth a fairy could have just materialized into the room thanks to nothing but some psychotic chanting, 's-so err,' he continued with a tone of disbelief, 'how do you question a fairy? Is there some special method or…something?'

'What are you going on about?' the Irishman snapped at what he considered to be an idiotic remark, 'you just ask it questions.'

'I feel kind of bad for it in that jar,' contributed Mathew, looking at the small creature a little sadly, 'Will she answer us if we let her out?'

'She'll fly away you dimwit.'

'But can't she like…teleport?' Alfred countered.

'I can't believe that either of you ever grew up with England,' Ireland stated as he looked at the brothers with an expression of disdain.

Canada and America sighed before they both motioned, almost simultaneously to their uncle, to just get on with it.

Ireland peered at the fairy, the tip of his nose resting firmly on the edge of the glass. 'You're going to answer some questions regarding my brother and don't think you're getting out of it,' he said, almost morbidly to the tiny, frightened being inside.

The sprite recoiled a little and clutched at her court blonde hair.

'So tell me fairy,' he went on, 'know anything about someone stealing a nationhood?'  
>The fairy bit her lip but as she saw the nation's large hand motion toward shaking her prison she burst out, 'Mistress didn't steal it!'<p>

Ireland paused and retracted his hand with an eyebrow raised, motioning for the little figure to continue.

She crouched down timidly and rested her back against the glass edge, trying hopelessly to somehow find some privacy in her transparent cage, 'he signed it over to her fair and square!' she continued after coming to the conclusion any escape was hopeless.

'From a drunk, that's pretty much the same as stealing,' growled Ireland dissatisfied.

'Not her fault if he wasn't been careful was it!' she pouted angrily in reply.  
>Ireland shook his head and once again went to shake the glass but suddenly he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Canada looking at him with an expression that was, for Canada, quite distraught. Ireland smiled to himself, of course Mathew wouldn't approve of this kind of interrogation technique, 'ok ok,' the Irishman said as he shook of the hand, 'I'll be nicer but we don't have time to dawdle alright?' He returned his eyes back to the little sprite and softening his expression said gently, 'I'm sorry okay? What's your name?'<p>

'…Why?' she replied, eyeing the nation with mistrust.

'Isn't talking better if we know each others names?' Ireland stated.

The fairy narrowed her eyes but then mumbled, 'Tesni.'

Do you know who I am?' Ireland continued.

The sprite nodded slowly, not taking her eyes of the nation for a moment.

'Then please Tesni,' he said, 'you can't really support what's going on here can you? I thought your people loved me and my brothers.'

Tesni paused, her posture becoming slightly less reclusive as she looked up with her small face into Ireland's bright emerald coloured eyes.

'We do,' she said finally, 'but you let the humans all take over, we just want some land back!'

'I understand that,' Ireland stated, 'but you can't do all these unnatural things to achieve that, you can't really want England to die can you?'

The fairy remained silent. She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, hugging her legs tightly as she thought of an answer.

'I…I…' she mumbled as if scared to carry on with her sentence. The nations remained frozen in the stuttered silence, hanging on her every word as they waited patiently with baited breath for the small being to continue in the hope she may say anything useful, 'I thought what she was doing was wrong,' she said finally, 'but she's a scary witch! She might punish us for saying not to kill the people…'

'Who's this witch that you speak of, we need to talk with her right away,' Ireland enquired with an almost dark tone.

'She won't speak to _you_,' the fairy replied.

' "_You"_? You mean she'll talk to someone else?'

Tesni turned her head away in defiance of answering. Ireland bit his lip but somehow sensing that the talk would be more productive not pursuing this topic, sighed and sat back a little begrudgingly.

'Urgh I don't care! Where is she?' he persisted in annoyance.

'I-I don't know!'

'You must know something of where she is!' he exclaimed, lunging forward slightly and halting his frustrations only when he sensed Canada glaring at him from behind in a quiet protest of what he considered to be bullying a helpless creature.

'I-I don't know…but…' Tesni went on.

'But?' Ireland queried.

'But she left the fairy realm not long ago…'

'She left?'

Tesni nodded before continuing, 'she said she won't come back to our world until her job at ridding the country of humanity is fulfilled…'

'And do you know how she intends to do that?' Ireland asked.

Tesni bit her lip and looked tearfully into the eyes of the nation as if begging him to stop the interrogation, 'I-I don't know,' she stuttered, 'I swear, I don't know.'

Ireland met her gaze. There was honesty in her eyes and deciding to trust Tesni and in not wanting to upset a fairy any further, finally grumbled, 'Okay, I believe you.'

Tesni waited for moment and then asked nervously, 'Please, will you send me back now? This world is suffocating,'

Ireland looked down despairingly, frustrated that he'd obtained no useful information but nodded none the less to her request, 'I suppose we can send you back to the other side,' he said.

Ireland gently placed his hands around the glass and lifted it up, setting it down just outside the circle. The fairy looked around startled, the change in environment instinctively sending panic through her miniature form but in keeping mind over matter, she refrained from flying away, remaining cautiously in the chalk ring. Ireland laid his hands at the edges of the chalk marks and murmured a short spell, causing the circle to immediately begin to glow. Tesni's face lit up with joy in the realisation she was going home and she smiled ecstatically as she felt the warm light begin to shine through her body. The fairy beamed in delight as her small form began to disappear but suddenly her expression dulled as she glimpsed the nation's expressions as they quickly began to fade from view. In their eyes she could see feelings of despair and hopelessness welling up and somehow, strangely, she was touched by this sadness. Tesni turned away, trying to ignore it, but then in a moment of madness for the little sprite, she suddenly whipped her body around to face them.

'Use him!' she exclaimed hastily from her rapidly dissolving form.

'What?' Ireland asked, immediately snapping his attention to the fairy

'T-take England outside…f-follow where he goes…' her voice echoed out of reality and with her sentence unfinished, the light faded and Tesni's presence fully vanished from the room.

The nations looked at the empty circle with expressions of surprise until Ireland finally smiled and murmured 'thank you,' to the empty space. It was obscure but he was relieved to have been rashly given the hint, even if it was only small and ambiguous. He stared at the chalk of the circle. Could he trust that fairy, was she really on their side, or was she giving them false information? Could following any advice she gave even cause them harm? Ireland shook his head. Regardless of her intentions, she had given them a direction and seeing as they had nothing else to go on, he turned to the brothers and said bluntly, 'get England, we're going out.' 

After a little coercing, the nations managed to drag the former England from his reserve in the living room. He protested but his currently delicate, human form was no match for three countries. Canada selected a warm coat for the gloomy Briton and thrusting the garment into his arms, the nations bullied him out of the house. As they left through the more than breezy entrance, America turned his gaze to the fallen door. He thought for a moment. They really shouldn't leave the house completely open. America bent down, eased his fingers under the frame and lifted it up, pushing it back into its rightful position before going about to carefully balance it.

'Al, we've got to go,' said Canada as he watched his brother perform what seemed to be almost a weird sort of dance in his desperate attempts to keep the door from falling back down.

'I'm coming, I'm coming, just gotta fix this…'

'Here,' stated Ireland seemingly appearing from nowhere. America turned to face him. The Irishman leant on England's wheelie bin, which he'd just fetched from the back garden, with the hope it would put an end to Alfred's time wasting, 'just prop it up with this and let's get going,' he said with a mild tone.

'O-oh right, thanks,' the American replied sheepishly.

The company strolled down the silent street. Arthur had been pushed to the front in an attempt to coerce him to take the lead but as a result they were all walking at a snail's pace as the Briton was less than enthused about the activity.

In an attempt to entertain himself in what seemed to be a boring exercise, America leant over to his brother and muttered quietly into his ear so that the Briton couldn't catch the words, 'Matt, dude, if England stays human, we should fix him up with a chick!'

Canada whipped his head around with an appalled expression, 'He's not going to stay human!' he hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down, 'If he does, the whole world might end up killing themselves and we won't have anyone to fix him up with!'

'I think it would be nice to get him a girl,' Ireland contributed casually, slowing his pace so as to join in the brother's conversation, 'we can't really do that, so maybe it would be nice to let him experience human life for a while.'

'Are you insane?' Canada snapped, 'That's cruel, we'll just have to take her away again when he needs to become a country!'

'Can't he just have some fun for a little while? He really wanted to be human for a reason,' Alfred countered.

'What if he falls in love, or what if he gets someone pregnant! A country will be the father to a human! That's so messed up.'

'Can't he do anything? Besides I don't think he'd really want any more kids after raising me-

'Why did you make me come out?' Arthur muttered loudly in a blatant but energy less interruption.

'You needed some fresh air,' Ireland replied hastily, jumping forward to his brother and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, 'just go where you want, anywhere and we'll follow okay?'

The former nation barely grunted in reply and just kept trudging dismally forward.

'Do you think this is actually going to accomplish anything?' Canada whispered into the Irishman's ear.

'No,' he replied, 'but we've got nothing else to go on.'

After a while, the group heard a deep rumble, echoing through the environment and sending chills up their spines. Canada and America looked to the sky to see dark clouds quickly gathering as the heavens grew dismal with shadow and seemed to peer upon them with an ominous oppression. A large raindrop collided with Alfred's glasses. He rapidly removed them to wipe away the moisture with his sleeve but his attempts were soon rendered pointless as the countries became quickly drenched as a raging storm descended.

A frozen wind blew its way through the street, 'Ireland, we can't be out in this weather!' Alfred exclaimed as he pulled his bomber jacket tighter around himself in an attempt to block out the cold, 'let's just go back! Artie's gonna catch a cold!'

Ireland stopped in his tracks. He bit his lip in thought for a moment before turning and nodding. Wondering around with no goal or purpose would probably achieve nothing for anyone. Sighing, he extended his hand to reach for his brother, but as he did so, Arthur suddenly broke into an unannounced sprint and ran ahead.

'What the! Where's he going!' America exclaimed.

Arthur felt almost possessed, something was pulling him, something strong and strange. He thudded down the street the heavy rain soaking him to the bone but he didn't think for a moment that his weak, human body was hurting and exhausted and that the rain was stinging his skin like cold daggers, he just needed to keep moving, he needed to get closer to whatever that wonderful feeling was. He was almost there, he could feel it, it was almost within his reach, when suddenly a powerful grasp pulled him back.

'Where the hell are you going!' exclaimed Ireland, shouting through the racket of the pounding rain and looking at his brother with a mixed expression of worry and anger, 'you can't just run off on your own!'

'Y-you told me to go wherever I want!' Arthur panted in reply, 'and I want to go over there!' He whipped his body around rashly, stumbling slightly on the slippery, wet patio and pointed strait ahead, his line of sight immediately falling, to his slight surprise, on a small, old building.

Ireland raised his eyebrow slightly, 'A pub? This is where you wanted to go so desperately?'

Canada and America caught up, their feet splashing wildly in the quickly accumulating puddles.

'What the hell England! Can we just get back now!' Alfred exclaimed.

'America's right, this is no time for a drink,' stated Ireland in what was an unusually serious voice.

'I didn't come here for a drink,' Arthur protested, 'I-I just want to go in!'

The company paused, still and silent accept for Arthur's weak protests of trying to escape his brother's grip. Ireland refused to let him go but in seeing his desperation turned to the others as if silently asking their permission.

'A building's a building,' said Canada eventually, 'let's just get out of this rain before any of us gets ill.'

The group entered. It was a pretty pokey, homely sort of place, numerous small rooms that were almost maze like in how they joined together, a roaring fire, low beams that caused America to have to constantly be ducking his head. If it wasn't for the depressed atmosphere it would have probably been rather nice. Strangely for the time of day, it was heavily occupied, numerous people were dotted all over the place and the nations couldn't spot anywhere to sit on first glances. Perhaps the crowds were due to others also trying to escape from the rain or maybe they were just there in some hope of drinking away the depression that had washed over the nation. Whatever the reason, the countries decided to ignore it and America was quickly pushing his way through to a small, unused table he'd seen in a corner. He beckoned to the others and soon Ireland, America and Canada had all seated themselves and had begun their best to squeeze out the cold water from their hair and clothes.

'I'm in the mood for something to drink,' said Ireland to himself as he ran his fingers through his blonde hair

'Certainly not!' Canada snapped, 'We can't afford to get drunk!'

'Eh? Wait, where's England?' said Alfred suddenly looking around to notice that the Briton was not seated with them.

'He's gone again?' Ireland snapped, his eyes darting around the numerous people in hopes of locating his brother.

'Over there!' Canada exclaimed.

Arthur stood almost idiotically. His green eyes were focused, unwavering from the woman before him. A beautiful creature he thought, with long dark hair like a raven, emerald eyes to match his own. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would pump right out of his chest. He felt as if the person before him was a long lost part of his soul and he couldn't turn his head to break his gaze for a second. He couldn't understand this strange feeling that had suddenly come over him but he knew without a doubt, that this was the person he'd run through the rain to meet. Was this what humans called 'love'? Or was it something far more than that.

'I've been waiting for you,' she smiled, turning around to face him.

Arthur, shocked that this beautiful woman would so much as speak to him, could barely make a stuttered response, 'W-waiting f-for me?' he spluttered.

'Yes, you and you alone. I'd talk to no one else but you…Arthur,' she continued.

'Y-you know me…'

'Yes, I know you like no one else knows you.'

Arthur stared stupidly, completely entranced. 'W-who are you…your name?' he half-mumbled.

'Name…?' she paused suddenly and turned her gaze to the floor in thought for a moment. She seemed to mummer some words, as if trying out names before eventually turning back and with a serene smile replied, 'Faye.'

'Faye…' Arthur repeated to himself, 'it means…fairy…' his grip on reality was beginning to waver, he felt as if he had strayed into a dream and he wanted to stay there.

The woman leant forward, her face drawing so close to Arthur's that the tips of their noses almost touched. Arthur couldn't stand it, he felt if she came any closer his chest would explode. Just who was this woman, why was he feeling this way in her presence? As she drew closer he began to feel sleepy, his eyes drooped and his head started to nod. She placed a hand on his cheek and he felt a shudder run up his spine, she felt like…home.

'Hey sweetie! What brings you to the bar!' an obnoxious voice exclaimed.

Arthur snapped back to his senses and like lightning turned his head around to see a grinning, snickering American behind him. Immediately his cheeks grew a deep shade of red as he realised what the situation looked like to the others.

Alfred grinned childishly at the dark haired woman and flexed his arms, 'Yo check this out,' he said, 'Ever see guns like these?'

Arthur just stared horrified at the young nation's behaviour, his jaw loosing all ability to close his mouth at the shock and shame of what the country was doing. Canada and Ireland joined the company, Ireland bearing somewhat of a dark expression as he assessed the situation.

'You can't get girls like that,' muttered Canada.

'Works back home.'

'Maybe with the whores,' the Canadian said in disgust.

'You're just jealous,' the American laughed, 'but fine, whatever, I don't like stuck up bitches anyway.'

The dark haired woman stared at Alfred with eyes of malice but the happy go lucky American wasn't one for feeling the atmosphere and chuckling to himself whispered in Arthur's ear, 'all yours man,' and grabbing the arms of his brother and Ireland backed off smirking.

From a nearby table that Alfred had deemed good for spying, the three seated themselves. America immediately assumed the position of a meerkat and darted his head around wildly so as not to miss a second of Arthur's endeavours. Canada sighed and rested his head in his hands while Ireland merely slumped back into a chair with an unusually sober expression for his usually joyfully optimistic persona.

'Humans are strange,' muttered Canada, 'he's been human for what, a day? And he's already got a crush, what is up with that species.  
>'Hehehehehe, dude, he's so totally blushing!' sniggered America excitedly as he bobbed his head up and down to get a better look.<br>'I don't like this…' Mathew murmured.

'Aw let him enjoy himself!' America laughed, 'is he gonna buy 'er a drink or something?'

'Looks like he's just stuttering like an idiot,' stated Canada.

'Shoulda given him some dating tips,' said America as he continued to spy enthusiastically.

'Like you're so smooth,' groaned Canada looking heavenward.

'As a matter of fact, I am,' Alfred growled, 'Smoother than you at least, I can actually be _seen_!'

America turned his attention back to the embarrassed Briton. He watched with baited breath as the woman took Arthur's head in her hands and kissed him gently on the cheek, causing the former nation to go so weak at the knees he looked close to simply collapsing.

'Dude! He shoots and he scores!' Alfred exclaimed excitedly.

'She only kissed him! On the cheek I might add, it's not like he got laid!' grumbled Mathew becoming increasingly annoyed at his brother's loud, irritating voice.

'That's what follows up,' Alfred smirked, 'Not that you'd know anything about that.'

'What's that supposed to mean-!'

'I've had enough of this!' Ireland exclaimed, standing up so fast that he knocked the table back a few inches on his assent.

'Haha what?' Alfred said, still cheerful.

'That is not normal behaviour!' he went on, pointing brashly at his brother and the strange woman, 'and-' The Irishman paused and his eyes suddenly widened in some terrified revelation.

'What is it?' asked Canada timidly, looking up from his seated position.

Ireland didn't answer, his breathing just accelerating until he yelled out, 'Brother!' and ran, pushing roughly through the groups of people, climbing over tables to hasten his endeavour and then, with an outstretched hand, grabbed Arthur by the collar and pulling him out of the woman's grasp.

Shocked, both America and Canada jogged over to the scene.

'Dude, what are you doing!' Alfred exclaimed to the Irishman who was still clutching at the bewildered Briton's collar.

'I knew something felt strange!' Ireland shouted fiercely, 'The moment I came in here, it's you isn't it! I can feel it!' he yelled, pointing violently at the woman, 'you feel…like he did,' he added more quietly, glancing down to his human brother.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Let him go,' she said darkly, 'he's mine.'

'Over my dead body would I give him to you!' he spat in reply.

The woman smiled to herself, 'Very well.'

Immediately, the whole building became deathly still and silent, the people completely motionless as if every life had suddenly, in that second, been extinguished. Ireland loosened his grip on Arthur slightly in response to his unnatural limpness and looked around the room skittishly. The people's faces were pasted with blank expressions, their complexions a sickly white, as if they'd been drained of blood. Not blinking they stared ahead of themselves into empty space. The three nations edged closer together, disturbed by the strange behaviour and then, the humans began to chant amongst themselves, their mouths mumbling some indistinguishable words with an unnatural lack of tone or emotion in their voices.

'W-what are they doing?' Canada whispered, as he clutched a little to America's jacket in apprehension.

'I don't know but whatever it is, it's likely not good,' replied Ireland fearfully, looking strait ahead into the emerald eyes of the dark haired aggressor before him.  
>Quickly the words of the people grew louder and Ireland felt his hand, still clutched around his brother's clothing, began to shake in nervousness as the creeping chill of the Briton's unnatural voice crept into his ears and then, almost mechanically, Arthur rose his head and turned to face Ireland with a dead expression before audibly saying, 'we shall all die.'<p>

Arthur lunged at Ireland's throat, digging his teeth deep into the top of his shoulder and ripping at his skin like some wild animal. Ireland screamed. Alfred jumped forward and desperately tried to separate the two, pushing Arthur back in a rabid panic of what was happening. Overwhelmed by the American's physical strength, Arthur allowed himself to be knocked back, skidding on the floor and placing his hands on the ground to steady himself. He glared up at the nations with a look of feral rage. Canada ran forward to catch Ireland as he fell backward, the usually joyful nation clutching at his neck that was now streaming blood.

'I-Ireland! Are you okay!' Canada exclaimed in terror.

'I-I'm okay,' he panted, 'I'm a nation, I'll heal, w-where's England?'

Canada looked around in panic at the enquiry but suddenly fell forward, clutching the other nation as he felt an onslaught of the other, now berserk, humans attack him from behind in a savage pack. He tried to ward them off with his one, free hand but was quickly feeling himself sustaining deep injuries. The people ripped and tore at everything, the nations, the other humans, themselves. The pub quickly descended into a bloodbath as bodies were thrown left and right and the people ripped each other apart in their deranged warfare.

America dashed into the fray which had now consumed Arthur from sight.

'A-Al!' Canada cried out as he dragged himself and Ireland under a table for protection, 'You're going to get yourself killed!'

America ignored him and merely shouted out, 'ENGLAND! ENGLAND, WHERE ARE YOU!'

He got his answer as quick as he asked for it, as he felt a hard fist collide with his jaw, causing him to topple backwards. He skidded back on the floor with a thud. He righted his body and clutched his jaw painfully but then felt his eyes widen with horror as his friend stood, hunched and animal-like before him. 'E-England?' he stuttered.  
>The former nation eyed the American for a moment and then lunged, while screeching as he leapt, 'Countries need to be dragged down with us, you need to be replaced!'<p>

Alfred pushed Arthur back, hearing Canada's terrified voice calling out to him faintly in the background. Out of sight, the Canadian was seemingly been almost fully ignored from the violence and for once was thankful for his unnoticeable nature as he clutched the injured Ireland in his arms. Mathew stared ahead to his brother tearfully, watching, as all around Alfred, bodies were dropping like flies in the midst of the massacre but the American couldn't turn his attention away from Arthur's barbaric glare as the Briton stretched out his fingers for Alfred's throat and snapped his jaws like a wild beast. America kept pushing back but was beginning to feel his strength fading in the face of the suddenly intense, feral power of former country. He was close to allowing himself to be defeated, his arms shaking under the pressure, his hands aching from the Briton's painful grasp, when suddenly, Arthur's force weakened. America looked into the Briton's eyes with confusion for a moment and then the reason became apparent as Arthur was flung back as a pack of wild humans had grabbed him from behind and were now dragging him into a mad rabble, tearing and ripping at his weak, mortal body as they did so.

'No England!' Alfred yelled, struggling back to his feet and trying hopelessly to reach Arthur through the savage onslaught.

Canada whimpered as he watched the humans falling dead all around from their injuries. Seeing that their numbers were decreasing however, Canada decided to take a risk and resting Ireland's weight on his shoulder, crawled out from under the table and ran cautiously to meet his brother.

'Al, we can't stay here!' he called out, 'We've got to go!'

'I can't leave without England! But I can't get to him there's too many!' Alfred shouted in reply.

Canada pushed forward and reaching his brother looked around wildly. 'He's just over there, a little further,' he said, 'we can get him-' Canada yelped. He felt a grotesque pain in his neck. One of the feral humans still left, sank its teeth into his skin. Canada dropped Ireland, his muscles began to contract in pain and he fell helplessly backwards into the mad creature's clutches. Alfred yelled out for his brother but was soon lost for words as he felt himself becoming throttled from behind in an equally violent assault from the feral crowds. America fell to his knees and instinctively curled into a foetal position in order to protect himself. They couldn't fight them off. There were too many. It was hopeless.

Arthur fought, clawing and biting but he quickly became overpowered. He fell to the ground, the creatures swarming around him. His mind had lost all consciousness of anything accept the feeling of pain and the wanting to destroy but his feral thoughts had suddenly become overcome with a new emotion, fear. He clutched at his hair and felt warm blood stream down his face. This was it. He was going to die. He closed his eyes slightly, waiting for one of his former citizens to unleash a final blow when suddenly, a white light suddenly shone around him. The mad humans screeched and covered their eyes, shying away from it and yelping from its luminosity. His attackers fled, clutching at their heads and shunning the light, desperately scattering from Arthur's presence. The Briton looked up cautiously, feeling some of his senses returning to him and then his eyes fell on Faye. She smiled at him and surrounded by a shining aura in what was otherwise a sea of death, she took on the appearance of an angel. He was mesmerised. She extended her hand, 'Come to me Arthur,' she whispered. How could he not? He reached out his hand to meet hers and then a light radiated through the room and all was frozen.

**Notes: This took ages to update sorry~ Been really busy so it's been hard to get around to, would really appreciate some feedback on this, so would love if people could take a little time to write me some reviews if they like this (or otherwise!) : ) thanks! xx**


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